


The Dragon Prince - Cold War

by sailcat



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Arcanum, F/M, Gen, Magic, Magic-Users, Magical Realism, Primal Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-02-07 13:32:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 68,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18621637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailcat/pseuds/sailcat
Summary: Having just returned The Dragon Prince to his mother, Callum and Rayla decide to continue working together to stop the war that has already been set in motion. Rayla convinces Callum to travel with her to the land of the Sunfire elves so he can continue his training and she can uncover the mysteries of her parents disappearance.





	1. The Chill of Other Hearthfires

  
Rayla     

    "Quick, hold ma' hand and pretend like ye' mean it," Rayla whispered as she glanced over her shoulder.

    Callum pulled the cowl of his tunic over his head and grasped the young elf's right hand, his fingertips gently touching the webbing between her four long digits. It was an innocent gesture but the intimacy gave Rayla a light tickle in her stomach making her heart pound a little harder. The pair jumped in surprise as a sudden chorus of cheers followed by rapturous laughter coming from the centre of this Sunfire Elf village. It was odd to hear such immense joy in contrast to all the skullduggery that brought them to the village in the dead of night.

    This Sunfire Elf village was typical of their society. Streets inlayed with polished stones glowed red like fire, reflecting the light of embers floating along the causeway. Even in the dead of night, this town was as bright and vibrant as any elven town during the day. Few villagers loitered in the streets as most of them rushed towards the centre of town to participate in the evening festivities.

    ' _Wasting away a perfectly sensible night to celebrate menial festivals was what Sunfire elves do best,'_  Rayla had half-jokingly told Callum when she convinced him to make this trip.

    Rayla lifted their entwined hands to her mouth and pantomimed kissing Callum's forefinger. She let both of their hands continue to cover her mouth as she whispered, "I think we're being followed."

    Callum began to to turn his head but Rayla tugged their hands downwards and pulled them both forward.

   "Don't look, dummy! It's this way," she said.

    The pair had made their way up the cobble street and away from the glowing embers of the urban square. The Sunfire elves they passed were so caught up in their reverie that they paid little notice of the cloaked Moonshadow elf and her human companion. Some villagers were enjoying themselves too much and Rayla could smell the heavy stink of Sunplum wine on their breath. She guided them through corridors and paths that snaked its way up the hill overlooking the town. Rayla told him she knew this place by memory but that memory was from a very long time ago.

    They had backtracked down the same pathway a third time when Callum let go of Rayla's hand and said with a sigh, "we're lost aren't we?"

    "No, I think it's down this way fer' sure," Rayla said as she continued walking down the pathway towards a t-intersection.

    Callum yawned and leaned against the side of an elven home. He began rubbing his eyes, trying to coax his brain to give him a third wind. He had to occasionally remind Rayla about the limits of human endurance without sleep and she would always grimace and say the exact same thing.

    "C'mon, ya' big baby," Rayla said with a grimace, "just a wee bit more before you can rest."

    "It's not that, it's just... maybe I wish we could have come here officially instead of sneaking in like thieves. Especially considering the fact that, you know, we brought back the dragon prince."

   "The same dragon prince who humans stole in the first place," Rayla reminded him.

   "I know, I know... it's just," he said rubbing his temples, "I'm beginning to think coming here was a very bad idea".

    Rayla placed the tips of her fingers lightly under Callum's chin, lifting his face up so she could look into his eyes.

   "You said you wanted to learn about the sun arcanum, right?"

   "R-right", said Callum.

   "And I said I knew the perfect teacher for you, right? After all this time time, are you ever going to trust me?"

    "I do trust you", he said in a soft tone matching the earnestness of a smile that pulled the bottoms of his emerald eyes, turning them into crescent moons. Rayla couldn't help but giggle whenever he made that smile at her.

   ' _Oh, why does this big dumb human be-twitch me so?_ ' thought Rayla.

    "Well, well, well!" bellowed a sing-song voice behind them, "two Moonshadow elves grace our humble village with their presence but come unannounced. Is decorum not taught in your village?"

    Rayla placed a reassuring hand on the small of Callum's back but sensed the nervousness in him. She gave him three light pats - a signal they had rehearsed - she then stepped towards the Sunfire elf as she lowered her hood to expose her face.

    "With apologies, we meant no offence. I am Rayla and this is ma' newly betrothed Fendyn."

    "Salutations to the happy couple", said the Sunfire elf with a saccharine, sing-song voice. 

    He gave a curt bow then stepped into the street allowing the light of the moon to spill over his face. He was young, with dark auburn skin and the angular features Sunfire elves were known for. His facial tattoos consisted of two golden bands running down from his hairline, curling sharply around his cheek bones and continuing along the length of his face and under his chin. He folded his hands behind his back in a move that made the medals on his ornate cloak stand out and glimmer in the light.

    "My name is Nivin," he said in a lilting, sardonic tone, "I'm what you might call this village's caretaker and it is my great honour greet all visitors."

    Nivin took a half step forward planting and then canting his foot which would not appear to be a provocation to anyone except a highly trained assassin; which Rayla most certainly was.

    "What brings you to our village so suddenly and unceremoniously?" he said.

    Rayla crossed her arms tight across her chest armour and feigning a haughty air said, "If you really must know we are visitin' a very old friend of our clan who is not long for this world. They wanted to give our new union their blessin' so now if ya' don't mind our time is very precious and we must be on our way".

    Rayla gave Nivin a nervous bow before turning on her heel and walking back towards Callum. The sudden look of alarm in Callum's eyes must have reflected the worry on her own face. She dreaded the notion of having to attack her kin, but she absolutely would do so if Callum's human identity were revealed. She reached out to grab Callum's hand while at the same placing her fingers on the locking hasp of her hidden short sword. The pair began to walk in the other direction and she heard Callum whisper an incantation under his breath while drawing a tiny rune under the cover of his cape.

   "Stop!" yelled the Sunfire elf. The sing-song quality of his words now gone, replaced with a menacingly deep voice. But it wasn't his voice that made them stop dead in their tracks, it was the sudden appearance of their own black shadows slowly rising in front of them, cast by the fiery orange glow of an unsheathing Sunforge dagger.

    "You there, Fendyn. You do not have the complexion of a moon shadow elf. Reveal your face to me. Now!"

    No longer whispering his spell, Callum began to turn around before Rayla could try and stop him. Callum turned to face the threat not 20 yards away from them. Rayla released the hasp lock on one of her swords, ready to unleash its fury and defend her ersatz betrothed.

    Callum slowly began to pull off the hood of his cloak, his other hand held fast the tiny, deadly rune that begged him to release its icy violence. Nivin's face contorted under the orange glow of his fiery dagger as he tried to piece together Callum's very un-Moonshadow elf-like facial features.

    Then at once came a loud, mechanical moan from the hinges of a heavy door opening into the street as an older elf stepped outside into the dark. The old elf held out both of his hands in front of him and towards the commotion on the street.

    "What's with all this racket outside my porch?" The old elf shouted feeling out with his hands into the night, "do any of you know what time it is?"

    "Get back inside!" shouted Nivin at the older elf, "I can handle these intruders."

    Rayla turned to look at the the older elf whose voice and face looked familiar. Callum and the younger Sunfire elf still faced each other, both unable to back down.

    "Constable Nivin!" shouted the old elf with a voice like crushed gravel-stone, "don't you have better things to do than bother village guests?"

    Nivin finally relaxed his posture and his lilting voice returned, "I-I'm just doing my duty!"

    "Well, do it somewhere else!" the old elf shouted in a voice commanding respect.

    Further down the street, a bottle of wine smashed against the stones as a group of young Sunfire elves laughed and began to shove one another.

    "Riff-raff! Halt where you are!" Nivin shouted and turned on his heel to run back towards the ember lit streets.

    The old elf leaned forward with his pointed ear as the constable continued to run down the street before turning towards Rayla. He said, "little Rayla, I thought I recognized your voice. Do you not recognize your own uncle?"

    "Uncle Zelmai?" shouted Rayla.

    Rayla ran up to her uncle's outstretched hands and he pulled her into an embrace. She turned back to see Callum still standing on the street. He was clearly struggling to cancel his spell of incantation, a skill he had only just learned back at her village. She admitted that it was thrilling to watch him master his newfound powers over these past few months but it was more fun watching him shiver and quake as he wrested the power from the corporeal and back into himself.

    Down the street, Nivin tried to break up the drunken street fight then slipped and fell into a pool of purple wine cursing some young elves as they took off laughing.

   "How about that?" Callum said, "looks like our two cultures aren't that different after all."

    The old elf chuckled as he bade them both inside his home.

**Callum**

Callum's body still shivered as he repeated the spell cancelling mantra the Moon Elf mage had taught him weeks ago. Some of his spells could be cancelled easily enough but his  _Aspiro Frigis_  spell seemed to have a will all of its own. It refused to be put down once unleashed and tickled and ached whenever Callum demanded it retreat into his mind. Perhaps because it was the first time he had actually contemplated using a primal magic spell against another living person. That fact had chilled him more than the spell itself. He was grateful that their host had a roaring fire radiating heat as they entered into his lodge. Like most elven architecture in Xadia, this Sunfire elf home felt as if nature itself had sprouted it from the very ground and hardened it through time.

    Rayla started to ask her uncle a question before he held up one finger and with a smile walked into an adjacent room. Rayla looked over at Callum and give him an unknowing if somewhat embarrassed looking shrug. It was beginning to dawn at Callum that this older elf was blind as he never once opened his eyes and braced himself along the walls as he moved throughout his home. Rayla sat down onto the sofa next fire and Callum plunked down on the pillow next to her's. He watched as hearth fire made varying shades of red dance among the gently curving arches and twisting woodwork that seemed to blend naturally with each wooden plank. It was a pleasant image and he was happy that Rayla appeared to enjoy the fire as much as he was.

    The older elf returned with a tray filled with food.

    "Dig in, friends!" he said and the two happily obliged.

    Zelmai didn't say a word while the two ate. When they finished their first helping, Zelmai finally said, "The name's Callum is it?"

    "Uh, yes... yes sir. Callum is my name."

    "A human name?" said Zelmai, cocking his head slightly.

    "I am human, yes sir," answered Callum in an embarrassed tone.

    Zelmai chuckled and reached for a tart on the tray. Callum noticed that the treats were reminiscent of the human deserts back home and he wondered if Rayla may have tipped her uncle beforehand about him being a human.

    "Don't be shy now," said Zelmai, "some of us here in Xadia do not agree with the human purge from these lands. The sins of the father should not always be visited on the sons..."

    He turned to face Rayla and with eyes closed said, "or daughters."

    Still nervous, Callum said, "and you are Rayla's uncle?"

    "Well, something like that," he said as he turned to face the fire. "Our two families go back generations with one or two marriages along the way."

     Callum nodded in a silent response before Rayla give him a gentle nudge with her elbow pointing at her eyes.

    "That's great! I love learning about Rayla's family," he said looking back at Rayla who turned back towards the fire trying to mask her reddening cheeks.

     "And the bards sing that you and her returned the Dragon Prince to his mother a few weeks, is that right as well?"

     Now it was Callum's turn to blush.

    "It was Rayla who did the work to be honest, I was just there for emotional support mostly."

    Rayla pursed her lips as she shook her head at Callum.

    "C'mon, now," she said patting Callum's knee, "it was a team effort."

    "Okay," Callum relented, "it was amazing to reunite the Dragon Prince with his mother but in the end humans and elves still hate each other. We haven't stopped the war, we just delayed it."

    The old elf sighed and reached for the last pastry treat left on the tray. He took a big bite letting flakes from the dessert crumble on the front of his tunic. Callum had never met an elf more relaxed and disarming since his brief time in Xadia and he could tell Rayla was once again correct in bringing him here.

     Zelmai took a second bite from the pastry and didn't swallow before he continued, "all wounds take time to heal, and the cut human-kind inflicted on Xadia was a grievous wound to be certain. But not a mortal wound. The young dragon will grow older and new generations will appreciation your heroism for what it was."

 _'Hero?'_  Callum thought,  _'I'm barely a mage let alone a hero.'_

     Zelmai tossed the remainder of his pastry in his mouth, letting his mouth pop on each of his three fingers and thumb as he enjoyed every last bite. He rubbed his hands on the front of his robes and leaned back into the heavy wooden chair his face turning to each of his guests despite his blindness.

     "Well then, you didn't come all this way for my pastries. Let's talk turtle-turkey."

    The elf's mannerisms and turn of phrases were surprising to Callum, much like Rayla, here was an elf that acted more human and was completely comfortable in Callum's company. Rayla gave Callum an encouraging look, goading him to speak.

    Callum cleared his throat before he said, "I understand you were a teacher of Sunfire magic. And I know are retired now but I wish to formerly request to become your student and learn about the sun arcanum."

    There was a hesitation and perhaps a sense of awkwardness as Zelmai answered, "Yes, I was a sunfire teacher, but guiding you would be a... complication."

    "I know that humans can't do primal magic," Callum began, "but I..."

    "Already know how to wield primal magic," Zelmai interrupted with a chuckle that sounded like a bag of crushed rocks, "you think I can't tell when a caster clumsily cancels a primal spell?"

    It dawned on Callum that that the autonomic parts of his body still tingled and shivered as the power of the blizzard spell still tingled through every one of his nerves. Reversing a spell was often more of a challenge then conjuring the spell in the first place and doing so often gave him a ticklish tug the back of this mind. Something inside him told him he had to master it though. Perhaps it was the one image from his fever dream in the cave that stuck with him; the image of his own face, warped and twisted from using dark magic. He wondered if the same thing could happen if he used natural sources of magic as well?

    Rayla leaned forward once again putting her hand on Callum's knee, "uncle, I know that you are retired now, but I was hoping you could do this as a favour for ma' family. For me?"

    Zelmai's white, bushy eyebrows curled upwards in sadness. He opened his mouth a few times to speak but to Callum he appeared not to know how to phrase the next words.

    "Rayla," he began, "that's just it, I can't teach for political reasons. Your parents and I... how do I put this?"

    "Oh, no," said Rayla covering her mouth at the sudden realization of what her uncle was trying to say.

    "No, please, listen to me," said Zelmai, "you can't be blamed for what the counsel of elves believe your parents did or didn't do. Right or wrong, they were quite clear that all of our immediate and extended family are forbidden from weaponizing magic. For me it meant shutting down my school."

    Callum looked at Rayla still holding her hands over her mouth as her eyes began to sparkle with tears welling up in her eyes. Callum briefly thought how lovely her eyes were in that moment, so much like sapphires scintillating under firelight, but then a wave of guilt pushed the feeling away as he understood the sadness behind those tears knowing the constant torment her parents' shame had caused her. He recalled how Rayla had once told him how her parents abandoned their post in defence of the Dragon King which gave the humans the opportunity to murder the King and steal his only egg. Part of that story was untrue of course, the egg was very much alive and through Rayla and his own efforts, they had returned the dragon prince to his mother. Their achievement didn't do much soften the blow from the constant, crushing reminder of her parents betrayal.

    "Moon above I wish they would come out of hidin' and face their punishment", Rayla said through gritted teeth.

    "Ah'll always hate them for what they did to our family, Zelmai," she then turned and looked at Callum, her lilac coloured irises an unfocused blur behind tears, "and I'm sorry for bringing you here, Callum."

    "Rayla..." Callum began as he reached out to touch her shoulder but she gently pushed his hand away then stood as she wiped away tears with her sleeve.

    "Uncle, if it's okay we'd like to stay the night and we will be off in the mornin'."

    Her uncle's face softened and now it was his turn to stand.

    "Of course you two can spend the night," he said holding his hands out in a placating gesture. "Callum needs to start his training in the early morning, after all."

    "Wait," said Rayla, "you just said you can't train students?"

    The old man's laugh was hoarse and hearty, "the council said I couldn't train students, they didn't say anything about training heroes."

    The two young companions beamed at each another in look of shock and joy.

    "Are you two happy or sad or something? I'd appreciate a little feedback here", said Zelmai reaching his hands out into the air.

    "We're ecstatic!" shouted Rayla as she bounded over to her uncle, embracing him with a big hug, "thank you so much, uncle!"

    Callum went over to shake Zelmai's hand but the old elf pulled him in, surprising Callum with the strength behind his bearlike grip.

    "Glad to hear that!" Zelmai said when they finishing their hug, "Your training begins when the Cockatrice crows in the morning."

**Viren**

How long had he been down here? A month, a year? The only thing Viren knew for certain was that he had completely lost track of time since he was thrown into this dungeon to rot. For an hour each day he was allowed down from his chains to devour a cold meal made from what tasted like ashes and leftover gruel. That brief moment was the release from his purgatory. That and the voice inside his head constantly tormenting him.

    Oh, what cruel suffering his captors inflicted on him, the very same people he had tried to save. This was not his destiny, the voice in his head had reassured him, but his misery was unending. An icy drip of water flowed down his wrist chains, underneath his armpits and down his torso. He shivered constantly, a feature of the dungeon he himself devised. What cruel irony.

    " _Stay with me, Viren. For we have still much work to do,_ " the buttery warm voice soothed and tortured him. He hated the voice but loved its company.

     With only a tiny window for light, he would slip in and out dreams never quite sure if his wakefulness was real or more of this waking nightmare. He dreamt he held the power over the gods themselves, weaving the power of flame, with ice and death. He crushed all who stood in his way. He imagined horrible ways on how to exact his revenge on his captors if he ever escaped this cell.

 _"She is coming,"_  came more soft words within his mind,  _"you must come back to me."_

     Viren's heart pounded when he heard the familiar jingle of the jailor's keys as the door to his cell opened with a loud clank. The door opened and he recoiled from its cruel light. It felt raw, like sharkskin paper on his face.

    "Dad?" came that voice so familiar to him... it was Claudia!

    "Claudia," croaked Viren, "you came!"

    Claudia whipped her head around and scowled at the jailor, "let him down for pity's sake!"

    The jailor closed his eyes and said sternly, "no, the King's orders were firm in that he stay chained with all guests. He's far too dangerous."

    "He's my father!" shouted Claudia, "and he would never hurt me. Please."

    The jailor looked at Claudia's pleading eyes and relented. He walked over to Viren curled in the corner and with a jingle of his keys, released him from the chains.

    "Five minutes," growled the jailor.

    Claudia waited for the jailor to close and then lock the door behind her before reaching out towards her father.

    "Wait!" he said with a gasp, "did you bring it? Did you bring what I told you?"

    Claudia froze at his words. She looked as if she might disobey him but then she closed her eyes and reached from behind her tunic pulling out a small canvas bag. The bag writhed as she untied the strings releasing a glowing butterfly casting subtle golden hue on the cell's rough stone walls. Claudia gasped as her father's gnarled hand reached out from the shadow and snatched the fluttering creature.

    "Turn around," said Viren, "please."

    She complied, though Viren could tell that he was pushing his daughter away with every command. He had to be more careful. He cast the glamour spell that would hide his deformities and give him a tiny prickling rush that he had so longed for.

    " _We don't have much time,_ " the voice in his head reminded him.

    He ignored the voice and stood up at last to face his daughter, his only pride, but he wondered where was...?

     "Where is Soren?" he asked, "where is your brother?"

    Claudia held her arm with with her hand then looked away. "He said he had to start training again. He said he hasn't fully recovered from his injuries fighting the dragon".

    " _Yes, the dragon!_ " cried the little voice in his head causing Viren to visibly wince.

    Claudia misunderstood his reaction and reached out with her hand, placing it on his shoulder.

    "He really wanted to visit you but the King made him a Captain. After the trial we'll visit you in good time."

    "Time," Viren scoffed, "I don't even know what that is anymore."

    " _Tick... tock,_ " mocked the voice.

    Viren looked his daughter in her eyes and saw tears welling up within them. Those eyes reminded him so often of her mother. If only he could see his estranged wife now, what he would say. Were words even enough?

    "Trial? What trial?" asked Viren.

    "The King..." Claudia said as her voice cracked with emotion. She cleared her throat and continued, "the King said you are set to stand trial before the royal council this week and I wanted to be the one to tell you."

    Anger washed over Viren. He had to suffer the destruction of his life's work and machinations and now his fate would be decided by an impudent boy-King! In that moment he wanted to smash the walls, destroy the Kingdom, set fire to the world. Claudia staggered backwards, putting her hand behind her back to feel for the jail door.

    "I should go," she said turning.

 _"Focus, Viren!"_  said the cloying voice again,  _"you must ask her for one more favour, you know what you must do."_

    "Before you go... I have one more request."

    Claudia looked at him, not saying a word.

     "The dragon horn you and your brother retrieved, I need a piece from it."

    "Dad..." Claudia began.

     "It's the last thing I'll ever ask of you but it's of grave importance. My sanity... my very life depends on it," Viren pleaded.

    "It's just that it was a huge risk bringing you that butterfly and people don't trust me as it is, being the daughter of a..." she said, her face drawing down before she could complete the words.

    "Of a monster..." Viren said.

    There was a period of silence between them, neither wanting to say anything or wanting to end the moment no matter how tense. Claudia looked up him, her chin tight and quivering with emotion. Tears flowed unabated down her flushed face. She reached out to embrace her father.

    " _Either you convince her... or I will..."_ bellowed the voice in his head.

    "WOULD YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!" he shouted back.

    His daughter pulled her hand back and scowled at him as the jailor quickly opened the jail cell. Two guards stormed in with the jailor and manhandled him back into his chains. Claudia didn't look back as she left, holding one arm in her hand.

    "I'm sorry, Claudia. My daughter, please! You must do this for me. For your family!"

    The jailor slammed the door and Viren began to weep.

    " _Looks like it's just you and me again,_ " said the voice.


	2. Fire in the Hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Callum's training day did not start the way he expected it to and the mystery of Rayla's parents only deepens. Viren's judgement day begins.

**Callum**

Callum couldn't sleep. His mind raced with thoughts of turning his own fingers into rays of sparkling light as he wielded gigantic orbs of blazing fire to toss at his enemies. As an amateur sky mage, he knew that wielding magic wasn’t simply about drawing runes in the air and saying words in ancient draconic, it required an entire shift in personality. That concept both thrilled and frightened him.

He stretched his limbs and blinked out the rays of the rising sun peeking through his open window. Birdsong filled the morning air and the smell of breakfast fires lit throughout the neighbourhood beckoned Callum to the start of an exciting new day. He wanted to leap up and show his new teacher the willingness he had to learn but he figured a few more minutes in bed wouldn’t hurt. He rolled over, tucking the soft covers between his knees but then he sensed something else in his room.

When Callum opened his eyes two black unblinking orbs staring back at him. Callum cried out as the largest bird monster flew backwards, snapping open its curved beak.

    “CAW CAWW!” it screamed.

    “What the…” said Callum rolling over and falling out the other side of the bed.

    “CAH-CAH-CAAAAW!” the bird screamed again and again.

Callum’s bedroom door slammed open with a bang. His teacher, Zelmai stepped through the door, no longer the shuffling, hunched over figure from last night but walking upright at his full 6 feet in height. He held out a long, white staff before him which he used to tap the floor in front of him. He stood beside the colourful bird beast, giving its neck a scritch. 

    “Good morning, sunshine!” He said leaning on his staff, “I trust you slept well?”

    “To be honest,” Callum said, shakily picking himself up from the floor, “I was so excited to learn about the sun arcanum that I couldn’t sleep”.

    With a smirk, Zelmai cocked his head towards the giant bird, “Aww, did you hear that, Hartmon?” The bird perked up as he heard its name, “the little hero didn’t sleep last night.”

    The bird only squawked.

    “Well,” said Zelmai as he picked up his staff and slammed it down hard on the hardwood floor, “the cockatrice crowed which means your training begins now. Get dressed. There’s breakfast on the table downstairs.”

Callum tried to shake out the cobwebs still lingering within his head. He hurriedly tossed on his clothes and rushed into the hall. Rayla was standing at the archway of her bedroom, rubbing her eyes and wearing the fleece nightgown that had once belonged to her aunt.

    “Did someone open a zoo in here?” She asked mid-yawn.

    “No time to talk,” said Callum running by with a huff, “training started.”

Rayla’s eyes popped wide as she smiled. She ran back into her bedroom closing the door behind her.

Once downstairs, a table full of delicious looking food awaited him. Callum pulled the bench up to the table and reached for a plate full of brightly coloured tarts bursting with rich purple filling. His mouth watered as he went to pop it in his mouth but he didn’t see Zelmai’s pet bird Hartmon coming around behind him snatching the tart from Callum's hand. Hartmon lifted its head as it swallowed the treat in one bite.

    “Hey!” Said Callum.

    “CAH CAWWWWW!” Replied the cockatrice.

    “Hartmon’s right,” said Zemai poking his head from the archway of the kitchen, “no sitting during training time. Grab what you can carry and follow me to the back of the house.”

Sighing, Callum grabbed as many pastries and exotic pieces of fruit he could carry. He made his way through the back of Zemai’s kitchen and out the back porch door. Greeting Callum’s eyes was a verdant garden dotted with ornate, grey statues and islands of exotic plants which stretched towards the rising sun. In the middle of Zelmai's garden stood the tallest ash tree Callum had ever seen in his life.

Callum was mesmerized by the sheer bounty of life bound within this mystical place which is why he failed to notice the grapefruit sized object flying towards his chest.

    “Think fast!” yelled Zelmai.

Callum tossed away the treats he was holding and caught the flying round object just in time. It hit him like a sack of Banthar lodge bread sticks, nearly bowling him over. He held up the heavy yellow ball to inspect it, turning it over with his hands until he spotted what look like a child’s drawing of a sun with a little smiling face.

Zelmai didn’t give him the chance to study it for long.

   “I hear humans love Xadian primal stones so much so I made one for your very own,” he paced while swinging his wand artfully in front of him. No longer giving any indication of his blindness. “Your stone’s name is ‘Mr. Sunny’. You will love him, pet him and feed him but you must never ever let go of him during training time. Do you understand?”

    “Uh, yes… yes sir," Callum said trying and failing to find a comfortable way to grasp Mr. Sunny.

    “Just Zelmai is fine, no need for deference in my garden. I’m not a monster after all,” Zelmai said with a wry grin, “any questions so far?”

    “Yes,” said Callum still looking unsure, “how is this rock supposed to teach me the sun arcanum?”

Zelmai dropped his grin and leaned back on his heels, “it’s not, it’s supposed to get you in shape! I saw you sucking wind last night trying cancel a basic spell. Moonshadow mages might tell you that it takes only mental discipline to wield spells but I say it does not! It takes stamina and that’s where we will begin today’s lesson.”

Zelmai walked up to where Callum stood, swooping down to pick up an especially delicious looking tart. He popped it in his mouth and without swallowing mumbled, “now, run between here and that tree in the middle of my garden until I say stop.”

Callum stood in place unsure of what to do at first. The cockatrice shrieked its cry as it flew up into the air and landed at the top of the ash tree and Callum took that as his cue to begin.

**Rayla (that same morning)**

Rayla bolted straight up in bed at the first cry of the cockatrice. Her sense of alarm fading as she quickly remembered where she was and what that piercing sound meant; her best friend Callum was about to begin his training. She knew that her uncle had a reputation as a strict disciplinarian and tense pang of guilt welled in her heart over having not revealed this personality trait to Callum. She also knew her uncle could get fast results and time was a luxury the world didn’t have. She threw the thick comforter off of her and hopped out of bed, straightening out the front of her nightgown and opening the door to the hallway. She couldn't get an answer from Callum as he sprinted past her in a blur. She thought it was endearing whenever Callum was in these flustered moods. In those brief moments of vulnerability she could really see him for who he truly was: a fragile young person searching for a purpose. Much like herself.

She returned to her room and went about her morning routine, finishing by pulling on her armour and tucking her two short swords behind her tunic. As much as she welcomed the comfort of sleeping in a soft bed, the cold, reassuring weight of the blades on her back was when she felt most at peace.

She ran down the stairs to see a table full of breakfast pastries and savoury, baked vegetables. She grabbed a few morsels then went out the back door of the kitchen, still wide open. She heard the cockatrice screech another of its obnoxious cries when she saw Callum jogging down the middle of the garden holding a moon-mellon sized rock above his head.

    “Get those knees up!” yelled Zelmai as he sat down on a bench.

Rayla smiled as she watched Callum run around the gigantic tree and back to Zelmai’s bench. She had to hand it to Callum, he never once complained when his mind was set on something.

    “Ah, Rayla, I thought I heard you. Come join me, will you?” said Zelmai. Rayla popped a cheese filled mushroom cap into her mouth. She sat next to her uncle and watched Callum make another lap around the circuit.

    “This one’s got some spark in him,” said Zelmai listening to his student huff and puff.

    “Yer tellin’ me,” said Rayla, smiling. “How long before you crack him?”

    “Oh, I give him two days tops,” said Zelmai and they both shared in a laugh.

Rayla looked down at her hands as questions lingering from last night burned inside her. She wasn’t sure how to broach the issue but her uncle did it for her.

    “Go on, Rayla. Ask you questions”

    “Okay,” she said sighing, “do you know anything about wha' happened that night… the night ma’ parents… the night the Dragon King was killed by the humans?”

She watched as Zelmai’s mouth opened then closed a few times. She could see his old age as wrinkles formed around the corners of his mouth and when he pursed his lips. Her uncle knew something but he was either hiding the truth or wanted to protect her from it and Rayla knew exactly what that feeling was like.

    “Uncle, you don’t have to worry ‘bout hurtin’ ma’ feelings. They can’t get any worse feelin’ than they are now. But I need to know the truth.”

Her uncle sighed and turned his closed eyes towards his niece. He bowed his head into his chest and Rayla thought for a moment that he was going to cry, instead he looked back up, his face suddenly stoic. “All I know for certain was that your parents were no where to be found during or after the actions of that night. What I won’t do is talk about any rumours surrounding that tragedy."

Rayla frowned, unsure of how to process her uncle's words. He made it sound as though her parents had simply vanished off the face of Xadia. Also, by avoiding rumours he made it sound like there might be something more to them.

    “But how can you be certain tha’ they simply didn’t run away?” asked Rayla feeling awkward with the question, “ma’ parents were in the honour guard. They knew every defence, every tunnel… they could have run away, especially if they had help.”

At the mentioning of her last words, her uncle’s eyebrows raised slightly. Rayla picked up on this, “or maybe they were betrayed?”

    “Rayla,” her uncle said, turning to point his knees at hers, “these are all reasonable, worthwhile questions to ask. But as I said, I will not engage in speculation. I will however, point you to someone who will.”

    “Who then?” she asked.

    “My nephew, Nivin.”

Rayla pulled back suddenly, “wait, Nivin? The guy from last night, Nivin? He’s your nephew?”

    “Twice removed,” Zelmai chuckled, "his father is a member of the Dragon King’s honour guard."

    “Uncle! Why in Xadia didn’t ya’ say anythin’? We could have invited him in for moonberry tea at least. This is so awkward!”

Zelmai stifled a laugh and his gruff throat coughed in the attempt.

    “Rayla, you know our ways. We consider the duties tasked to us a grave honour. We bind ourselves to them in the same way Moonshadow assassins bind themselves to their targets.”

    “Right…” said Rayla, rubbing her wrist still numb from the binding spell that was only removed by the most powerful creature in the world.

    “Which is also why we celebrate our orange butts off when we get off work,” he added, “so, you see there was no reason to burden Nivin last night.”

Rayla exhaled slowly, emotionally drained from hearing all the wrong answers to questions that kept her awake at night. She raised her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs and plopped her chin on her knees. She watched Callum make another lap of his circuit. Callum caught sight of her sitting on the bench and gave her a goofy looking smile, squinting out beads of sweat from his eyes. He very nearly toppled over his own two feet when the weight of his stone nearly pulled him over. Rayla laughed at the scene in spite of her gloom.

    “If you drop Mr. Sunny, you start over!” yelled Zelmai.

Rayla knew her next course of action, “uncle Zelmai, tell me where I can find this Nivin fella’.”

**Callum**

His legs burned. His arms were on fire but he refused to set down the Mr Sunny, his ersatz Sunfire primal stone. He had to prove himself to Zelmai, to Rayla and to the world that he would do anything asked of him. Sweat poured down his back and his eyes burned as salty beads dribbled down his forehead. He saw Rayla sitting on the bench looking despondent with her arms folded around her knees. He gave her a huge smile and nearly tripped over himself for his efforts.

    ‘ _At least I made her laugh,_ ’ he thought, ‘ _ah shoot! What was the count now? Nineteen or twenty? Doesn’t matter… got to keep going._ ”

     “One more lap, Callum then we start your next lesson,” Zelmai had called out to him.

He ran around the ash tree and upon his return Rayla was no longer there. He stopped in front of Zelmai's bench, his lungs burning from exhaustion. “Where’s…. Rayla?” he said between deep breaths.

     “She’s not your concern at the moment, young mage. Now, slow down your breathing and focus on every sensation within yourself. Then tell me in your words what it feels like.”

Callum stood up straight, closing his eyes and keeping a firm grip on Mr. Sunny. He wasn’t in particularly bad shape - he had walked across most of the human and elven lands after all - but physical training was not something he considered belonging to a mage’s portfolio. He did a mental inventory of every sensation from his toes to his head.

    “My legs and arms feel like they are on fire, my skin is hot and clammy. My eyes are burning from sweat, the sweat stings my skin from the sun beating down…” he could have went on but Zelmai cut him off.

    “Good. Notice how we tend to associate the sun and fire with pain and effort. When our bards sing their choruses battle when the victor has suffered terrible casualties, they call them ’pyrrhic victories’. But this association is a lie.”

    Callum wasn’t sure how his teacher wanted him to respond, his head swam from taking too many deep breaths.

    “Let me put it this way,” Zelmai said, “when I say 'Sunfire magic' what is the first thing comes to your mind?”

Callum didn’t hesitate, “casting fireballs, giant pillars of flame, rays of light that blind your foes.”

    “Oh? You mean, like this?”

Zelmai opened his eyes unleashing a sudden flare of brilliant white light. Callum reeled backwards in shock, trying to shield his face from the pure white blaze but he made a horrible realization that he could see his own finger bones curling under his skin. Within the tremendously white aura, Zelmai’s shadowy form stretched its arms over its head to trace an orange rune into the air. A deafening roar boomed from Zelmai’s core as yellow flames lashed out from every extremity. The elf’s form was completely immolated by a swirling vortex of living flames, wicking upwards into a spout of ugly black soot. The heat was absolutely overwhelming, and Callum tried to scream but the thirsty inferno ripped the air out from his own lungs making his vocal cords squeak feebly. As quickly as it all started, it was over and Zelmai was once again back on his feet walking briskly towards his pupil now lying on the ground.

Callum gasped for air. He was still in shock at the utter immediacy and violence he had witnessed. His skin had the prickling, pins and needles feeling like the beginning of a sunburn caused by a thousands suns.

Zelmai reached out with his hand feeling for his pupil but Callum was in no condition to respond. “Reach for my hand, my boy. Quickly now,” Zelmai’s voice was as soothing and cool as a brisk winter morning.

Callum could feel his skin begin to blister and just as his mind awoke to the prickling pain welling out of every pore on his body, he grabbed on to the elf’s outstretched hand. Immediate relief radiated from the elf’s cracked palm like the sudden emersion into a bath of cooling balm oil. It spread throughout Callum’s body and when the sensation reached his mind, he entered into a place of utter nirvana. It was the kind of peace he had only experienced as a baby nestled within his mother’s arms. Hours appeared to drift by before Zelmai finally released his grip and Callum realized it had only taken seconds for the healing spell to take its effect.

    “Wow,” said Callum, finally opening his eyes and seeing tears coming from the two black holes where Zelmai's eyes should have been.

Zelmai closed his eyes and let the watery stains of his tears remain on his face. He backed away from Callum and sat once again upon his bench.

    “So,” he asked with his normal gravelly voice, “what did we learn?"

     “That I was so very, very wrong about Sunfire magic,” Callum said, his voice trembling and defeated as it left his throat. Though the smile on his teacher’s wrinkled face warmed Callum’s soul.

    “Correct. There is much more to our magic than balls of fire. It is an enigmatic power, it can destroy all of creation in an instant or provide the warmth to sooth wounds. It is the source of all life including nearly all other primal sources. To truly master the Sun arcanum, one requires complete discipline of the mind, body, and spirit.”

Callum reflected on these words, recalling the same sentiment made by his mother in a fading dream. Then he noticed Mr. Sunny lying at his feet, its stupid childlike grin staring up and taunting him. He slowly reached down to pick up the round stone without Zelmai noticing.

    “Nice try,” said the old mage, “ten more laps.”

**Viren**

The two guards exchanged quizzical glances as raucous belts of laughter echoed behind the jail-cell door. Their prisoner mumbled to himself frequently but maniacal laughter was something new.

    “This one’s finally cracked,” the first guard scoffed.

    “Figures,” said the other guard, clicking his tongue, “on the day of his trial too.”

    “Do you think King Ezren will give ‘im the ol’ you know?” the guard said running a gloved finger along his neck.

     “Doubt it,” replied the guard, “don’t think he’s got it in him. And when he sees the mental state of this one, he’ll give him mercy.”

     “Pheh!” spat the other guard, “mercy’s too good for ‘im. Filthy traitor.”

Inside the cell, Viren was continuing the gleeful conversation with the voice within his own mind. His face beaming with an alligator grin as he maneuvered his head to his chained hand to wipe away tears of laughter.

     “You’re so right, there really are fascinating ways to raise the dead!” he said still chuckling at from his voice’s good humour.

     “ _Indeed my friend, but these are but a taste of the secrets of the universe I have in store for you once we are both free from our shackles,”_ said the voice with the richness of melting wax.

Viren’s dropped his head into his chin. He began to laugh again, his chest convulsing but his laughs turned to sobs. “She won’t help me, she hates me. Her own father."

    “ _You must trust me, Viren,_ ” the voice replied, “w _e will ignite the world and your daughter will be the catalyst. I have foreseen it._ ”

Viren still sobbed.

His tiny cell sat inside a cavernous place, a maze of echoing halls that stretched for dozens of miles. Viren had been a prisoner here for a long time, long enough to recognize different sound patterns indicating mealtime or new guests but the sound he heard in that moment was different. It was the haphazard clatter of a dozen metallic boots, the scrape of wooden weapon handles rubbing against rough walls and the harsh voices of soldiers.

    “ _It’s time,_ ” said the buttery soft voice in his head.

    “And Claudia still hasn’t come through. She has betrayed me. Just like you!” Viren cried out, his eyebrows twitching involuntarily.

There were two hard knocks of a metal gauntlet pointing on his cell door. The reverberating echo stung Viren’s ears.

    “Keep it down in there!” came the muffled call from the guard, “your time is coming, traitor!”

    “No! It can’t end like this,” Viren said defeatedly.

Just then he picked up on another curious sound. An organic scratching followed by what sounded like a bird’s tweets, sounding garish to Viren’s emaciated ears. The source of the twittering sound came from the tiny window which maintained his only sense of time. Viren craned his neck as he spotted a sparrow try to squeeze through the narrow window, its eyes bore a ghoulish green fire within _._ The bird worked its way through the bars and dropped down from the stony perch. It hovered in front of Viren’s face and he could see that it carried in its tiny beak an orange splinter. The dragon horn!

The mass of voices were just outside his cell door now. He heard muffled words from one of his jailers and the familiar jingle of keys. The bird cocked its tiny head seeming to study Viren’s face with glowing eyes miles away.

    “Cla.. Claudia?” Viren whispered and the bird hovered backwards in a flutter. It spun in a circle as the green fire within its eyes began to dim.

     “Thank you, daughter. You know that I lo…” before he could finish his words the fire within bird’s eyes blinked out and it dropped from the air making a light smacking sound on the stone floor. The little dragon splinter fell from its mouth and landed in the middle of the cell. He was able to roll it towards him using the heel of his naked foot and as it got closer, he switched to trying to pick it up with his toes but panic was overwhelming him.

Harsh luminescence washed over Viren as his prison door swung open. Stepping through the doorway was the figure of a small man, dressed in ornate regal armour and capped with a crown that cast grandiloquent breams of judging light into Viren’s eyes. The ornate figure did not move or say a word, his only action was to raise his fist and make two quick motions with one outstretched finger. Two heavily armed guards swooped into the cell. They unlocked his wrist chains and Viren fell onto the floor. The two guards manhandled him up and on to his feet but not before Viren palmed the tiny dragon splinter between his tightly clenched fingers.

    “ _Now do you trust me, Viren?_ ” asked the voice.

     “Yes,” whispered Viren.

    “The prisoner will remain quiet!” growled one of the guards.

     “ _Good because you must do exactly what I say. You will plead guilty to every charge they throw at you, perhaps even a few more…_ ”

     “What?!” cried Viren.

     “Muzzle the prisoner,” said the young voice belonging to the ornate figure still hidden in shadow, “and bring him to my throne room to stand trial.”

      “Yes, King Ezren!” said the two guards holding Viren in unison.

They bound Viren’s mouth with a dirty cloth and dragged him away to face his destiny. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With this chapter, I really wanted to turn things on Callum's head. His expectations about Sunfire magic have so far been from the bias of humans and even other elves.
> 
> I will be back next week with another chapter! Thanks for reading.


	3. Muscle Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rayla finds Nivin and learns a mercurial new skill. Aaravos gets involved as King Ezren and his council decide Viren's fate. And Callum and Rayla meet up to discuss their next plans.

**Rayla**

The land of the Sunfire elves was remarkably different by day than the one Rayla had envisioned the previous night. Crags of crimson coloured rocks jutted from the red earth landscape and some artists had even hewn them into varying sculps of animals and figures. Despite its desert location, this village was teeming with lush, green plants coated with spikes. Thin trees armoured with scale-like bark scraped the sky with their triangular green fronds. As Rayla walked further into town, she noticed fewer people than the previous night and everyone appeared to have focused look like they were all on some important mission.

She proceeded down the hill from her uncle’s cabin towards the centre part of town, the same location where the Sunfire elves had held the previous night's celebrations. Her uncle Zelmai had told her she would locate his nephew Nivin here, who may have information Rayla was hoping could shed light on where her parents had been hiding. As she got closer to the town centre, her ears began to hone in on a curious sound. It first emerged like random notes plucked on a moonharp but then her mind began to piece together a melodic chorus. She didn’t know why but when she focused on the melody, she envisioned a crowd of Sunfire elves appeared within her mind. Included in the crowd, was an out-of-focus visage of Nivin’s face and she was certain he would be at the source.

The centre of town had a similar desert-like appearance to that of the surrounding landscape only greater care was put into the groundskeeping. In the middle, stood an ash tree that had grown around the pipings of an ancient fountain. Over time water flow had carved deep canals into its white bark. Benches had been arranged in a circle surrounding the trunk of the tree. Rayla could now see six or seven elven women standing on the benches and waving their arms in time to the music. Surrounding the Sunfire women were a cadre of younger men and women wearing light crimson-coloured robes and Rayla recognized that they were practicing a type of synchronized sword drill.

The elves practiced their drills wearing a flexible string that wrapped around their horns and wound along the length of their back and back around their front forming a loop. They used practice swords to stretch the loop out in front of them. Their horns and feet were employed to tension the strings, pitching the sound of the notes whenever the blade struck the string. As soon as the elves finished a repetition, the strings hummed and glowed emitting a tone that created images within her mind. Sometimes the images were of majestic fields of battle, sometimes it created a sensation inside her like she had strength of two Raylas! One thing was clear, this was a form of magic at play that was completely foreign but one Rayla found intriguing.

The elven woman leading the session called for a recess and the students broke off to speak with one another. Rayla had spotted Nivin engaging in conversation with the elven leader. In full daylight, Rayla could see that he was a lot younger than he appeared the previous night. He was about a head taller than her and though perhaps a few years older, at least nineteen or twenty by her reckoning. Rayla took in a deep breath to shore up her confidence and walked up to Nivin as he engaged in discussion with his teacher.

    Rayla cleared her throat, “excuse me, might you be Nivin perhaps?”

    “Ah,” said Nivin pausing to take a gulp of water, “if it isn’t our Moonshadow guest from last night. I trust you and your betrothed have been adequately blessed?”

    “Y-yes,” Rayla replied nervously, “although I wasn’t completely honest about the circumstances. It would seem that your uncle by blood and ma' uncle through honour is one and tha’ same.”

    The older woman gave Rayla an odd look, “Nivin, is she talking about creepy uncle Wilmet who lives under the gazebo in the park?”

    “No, Mom…” Nivin sighed, “she’s probably talking about uncle Zelmai. You are talking about Zelmai, right?”

    “Yes,” answered Rayla smiling to hide her unease.

    “I see,” Nivin said chuckling, “well as you can probably tell, now is not the best time to talk about... family matters. Perhaps you’d care to join us in training?”

    “Oh, I dunno,” Rayla objected holding up her hands, “I'm not even quite sure what all this is. It all looks rather complicated.”

    “It’s Bardic training,” answered Nivin’s mother excitedly, “you can’t tell me Moonshadow elves don’t have Bards?”

Before Rayla could respond, Nivin had beckoned over one of the training assistants who brought with them a Sunfire practice string and sword that seemed to match Rayla’s frame.

    “Come now,” said Nivin, “where’s that Moonshadow elf spirit of adventure we always hear about? I do believe you owe us a favour for not being completely honest.”

The assistant placed the circular string over Rayla’s head and allowed it to drape loosely across her torso. One of the younger students giggled as she handed Rayla the practice sword and she could see that it had been coated with a powdery, golden rosin. The head instructor tapped her instructional wand on the lectern and told the class - including Rayla - to take their positions. Rayla mimicked the younger student next to her, adding her own Moonshadow assassin stance to the pose.

For Rayla’s benefit, the class began a few basic stances: a lunge that placed one foot on the string, while applying tension using the back the neck. They parried with the practice sword striking a staccato-like chord with the string that would have been in tune except for Rayla’s whose screeching string sent the youngest students falling to the ground, laughing in hysterics.

    “Quiet down, troubadours,” said the head instructor, “take it from the top, and a one and a two...”

Rayla and her new classmates practiced until their shadows grew long in the setting sun. Rayla was starting to get the hang of this bardic thing and could see the potential of it as a training tool at the very least. She began to lose herself in the steps, learning that she had much more control of the string whenever she used her horn to tension it. She discovered that the circle wasn’t one single strand, but a braided cord that she could tease apart with the flick of her neck. When she struck the thickened strand, it would create an entire harmony of sound. This was also the first time she made her string glow. Ethereal images of Moonshadow elves danced around a ballroom inside her mind. The ghostly shapes laughed and twirled in time to her song. There were phantoms too, hovering inside blue smoke at the back of the ballroom, refusing for some reason to take part in the dance and when they noticed Rayla's focus, she felt the sudden pang of dread within her heart. The phantoms were so distant yet she knew they were reaching out to her, seeing in her a way out of this room. They whispered her name. She recognized one of the voices and it raced to her with the speed of a demon, thrashing and turning to dust any ethereal dancers who stood in its way. When phantom that almost reached her it had a face she at last recognized.

    “Runaan!” Rayla screamed before she lost all feeling in her lower body and collapsed. Everyone was already staring at the Moonshadow elf before she passed out, but it was Nivin who was the first to run over to her. He lifted her head and Rayla opened her eyes, noticing the look of worry in his gold coloured eyes.

    “Wha... what’s happened?” she said groggily.

    “You’re a natural! That's what has happened!” said Nivin as his worry turned into excitement. “No one has ever manifested ethereals in such short a time as you have.”

Nivin helped Rayla to her feet but her head still swam and Nivin hooked his arm under her elbow. It felt like she just woken up from a horrible nightmare, the images that she formed inside her mind were quickly fading from her consciousness. She knew she saw Runaan - her old mentor - but there was someone or something else in there too.

Nivin excused himself and went over to his mother and they began to talk in a low whisper. Rayla guessed she was the topic of their discussion and began to plan an exit strategy.

    Nivin ran back over to Rayla, “we are holding a plum wine festival tonight and it would be our honour if both you and your betrothed could join us.”

Nivin beamed a very charming smile, even though his mother clearly did not share in her son’s exuberance. She wanted to say yes, if only as a way to prod him for more information but there was simply no way Callum was going to be able to join in them unless he suddenly sprouted pointed ears.

    “No, I’m afraid we have already have plans for this evening,” she sputtered.

    “With your betrothed?”

    “Aye, and uncle Zelmai,” she added, “but I really do want to want to talk to you about your family and about the incident at the throne of the Dragon...”

The smile dropped from Nivin’s face and he held up one hand hiding it from his mother’s view. He made a glancing look behind him to his mother and Rayla picked up that this was not the opportune time or place to talk about the subject.

    “So!” Nivin said cheerfully so his mother could hear, “I'm glad to hear you will be joining us tomorrow for more training. We will see you bright and early then!”

    “Oookay,” Rayla said awkwardly, “tomorrow it is then.”

Rayla handed back her training equipment to a young Sunfire elf and the other children all said goodbye in unison. It would appear she suddenly had a fan-club.

    ‘ _What have you gotten yourself into now?_ ’ she asked herself.

She walked back to Zelmai’s lodge as the sun under the rocky horizon, smiling the entire way.

**Viren**

Viren shrugged off the guard holding his elbow. Even if he was a prisoner he once had the title of Lord. He counted himself among the heroes of Katolis and Duren, he felt he was well within his right to demand a modicum of dignity. He continued to feign indignation while he slipped the piece of dragon horn into his pants pocket. The guards lead him up the stairs from his jail cell and into the main castle keep. Their path lead them past a waiting crowd of civilians who were tossing insults and rotten food. The guards formed a defensive circle around their prisoner, holding back the angry crowds.

The throng of guards with Viren in the middle managed to enter the bailey of the main keep, closing the steel gate behind them as the crowd crammed themselves to the metal bars. They screamed all manner of vile words at him, but Viren had heard it all before. What did it matter anyway? They were all fools not to heed his repeated warnings.

The head guard knocked on the gigantic oak door belonging to the King’s council chambers. He announced his name, title and his purpose of being there. To bring forth prisoner Viren, for purpose of the high council to decide his fate. A high pitched but stern voice behind the door gave an order and the two doors swung open inwards. There was a crowd inside but it was stony silence. Only the clanging of armoured boots on the stone floor echoed throughout the grand chamber. Once aside, the large doors slammed shut behind them. He was lead into the middle of two long desks with a short table at the end. Young King Ezren sat at the centre. Viren noticed how much like his father he now looked, right down to his crimson coloured robes tailored to fit his small stature.

All eyes glared at Viren standing in the middle of the chamber. Some eyes judged, some were sad, but all remained silence. Viren briefly caught a sideways glimpse from a soldier who wore a full helmet, but he recognized the eyes. They belonged to his son, Soren. Such scowling eyes.

Viren stood in the middle of them all and awaited his fate. The King stood, staring at Viren not once turning away his gaze. Viren caught perhaps the fleeting glimpse of softening or was it pity but the boy King's face belied his tension.

    “Viren,” King Ezren began, “former High Mage of Katolis, former advisor to King Harrow - may he rest in peace - you stand accused of high crimes and treason against the five kingdoms. Opeli, please read the charges.”

Perhaps the angriest person in the room stood staring at Viren with a wry grin. She seemed to relish this moment as she read off the long list of crimes held within her hands. Some were embellished, some Viren freely admitted to doing but they were all actions for the greater good. When she had finished, she sat down and a murmur began to fill the crowd sitting in the observation deck above the council chamber.

    The background noise went silent as King Ezren stood again, “Viren, it is my duty as King of Katolis to enforce the laws equally. When we hear of your long list of crimes, we cannot help but believe you feel that our laws don’t apply to you, that you believe you are above the people you took an oath to serve.

    “You were once my father’s closest advisor, you knew how strongly he felt that everyone in this Kingdom should be treated the same regardless of their birth. You disregard my father’s beliefs and you shame his memory.”

Viren could feel his cheeks turn hot, the corner of his eye began twitching as the burning anger welled up inside him. How dare this whelp of a man accuse him of doing anything except help humanity. Viren wanted to lash out but he bit his tongue, waiting for the King to finish before he could defend himself.

    “Viren,” the King continued, “because of your previous service to our Kingdom, I grant you now the chance now to defend your actions. What do you say for yourself?”

    Viren took a deep breath, this was his moment to convince some the members of the council to see the doom on the horizon and perhaps convince them to spare his life, “King Ezren, I see before me a young man wise beyond his youth. So much like your father are you, a man you know that I admire. I do not deny the crimes that were listed, but I fervently deny any and all accusations of treason against humankind. I am simply the only one here with the courage to take action, things that each of you are too afraid to do yourself. I am the one with the vision to see the peril that comes from Elven lands. Their evil race drove us out of the lands that belonged to our people and they are coming to finish the job once and for all.”

A worried murmur erupted from the observation gallery, carrying words of worry and echoes of the fear Viren was stoking. The King slammed his gavel down twice calling for order.

    “Enough!” shouted the King, “as King, I must officially abstain in decide your fate and I leave it to the 13 members of my council - your own peers - to decide your fate. Though I may guide them with the option of permanent exile, in consideration for your children who continue to both advise me and...”

    ' _Do it, Viren. Say the words I told you to say,'_  whispered the voice inside Viren’s ear.

    “I... I can’t,” whispered Viren, eliciting a few curious looks from the council members.

    ' _You must or our plans are over. Trust me, Viren. Please,'_   the tiny voice pleaded.

Viren raised his head, looking down his nose at the King while raising up his still cuffed hands. The King stopped his speech and began to inquire as to what Viren was trying to say.

    “It was I who murdered King Harrow,” said Viren.

Everyone in the chamber gasped as one and the room was thrown into pandemonium. King Ezren’s eyes grew wide with shock. The observation gallery exploded with cries calling for Viren’s death. The advisors stood up in one motion, kicking over chairs, throwing fingers at Viren and yelling over one another. Ezren’s face went hard, frowning and banging his gavel. It took six, loud hammer blows before the crowd began to murmur down again.

    The King rose, his face was red with fury. He looked at Viren through his eyebrows which were twisted into a scowl. “The accused will explain himself,” the King growled sounding more like a banther than a boy.

    ' _Repeat the words exactly as I say,'_  the voice of Aaravos said.

    “The night of the Moonshadow assassins attacked our people,” Viren said haltingly, “I entered the King’s chambers. While his back was turned, I plunged a dagger between his shoulder blades and made it look like the elves did it.

    “I wanted to be sure King Harrow wouldn’t survive the attack. I knew Harrow was too weak to see the threat in front of his own eyes! His own arrogance kept him from surviving when I gave him the chance to live. War with the elves in inevitable, you cannot stop...”

    ' _Enough improvisation_ ,' the voice cut him off, ' _I have notes for later but otherwise good job.'_

    When Viren finished speaking, King Ezren looked completed devastated. His eyes were wet and for a moment it looked like he was about to burst out in tears. Instead, he screwed his eyes closed and when he opened them again he regained his regal stature. “Despite this new testimony, I will honour my word and allow the council to decide your fate,” he sat back in his chair, maintaining a neutral gaze at Viren.

    The council’s deliberation was brief. When they had finished, Opeli spoke on behalf of the other members. “The council is split between two courses of action and therefore we put it to a vote. All those in favour of exile, raise your hands.”

    Only four members of the council raised their hands. Opeli then stood up and looked at Viren in his eyes. The King looked at Opeli unsure as to what their other option could be but Viren knew. Opeli grinned as she said, "then by the powers vested in this council as mandated by the King of Katolis, by majority decision, Viren we sentence you to execution.”

The crowd was again in an uproar. King Ezren appeared to be shocked by this outcome and he suddenly dropped all pretense of his regalness, when the very adult realities of his decisions met his youthful naivety.

    “The execution will take place in Katolis square at the end of the month,” said Opeli.

The crowd in the observation booth were once again on their feet screaming madly as Viren maintained his stoicism. The guards hooked their arms under his elbow and dragged him out of the room. He stole a look at his son, whose eyes were now swollen and red with tears. Seeing that look of pure shame in his son’s eyes was when his own tears started, they didn’t stop until well after he was tossed into his cell.

**Callum**

Callum could hardly move his legs up the stairs. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this exhausted. Certainly not when he used to train in swordsmanship with Soren. Maybe after a day of pulling his little brother Ezren up the snow packed hills at the winter lodge back home. He missed his little brother and made a plan to write him a letter.

He peeled off his sopping wet clothes laden with sweat and grabbed a towel from his bed for his bath. Sitting in the tub at Zelmai’s lodge was a small comfort to his sore muscles but the feel of the nourishing water from the spigot felt good on his skin. He almost fell asleep in the tub but the sound of the front door of the cabin opening reminded him that Rayla would hopefully have good news about her family.

He quickly toweled himself off and threw on some bedroom clothes that Zelmai provided. The clothes were worn but still soft and Callum figured they must have belonged to one of Zelmai’s former students. Callum’s legs felt like cinder blocks as he shuffled down the hallway towards the main staircase landing. Zelmai had already retired for the night but he made sure there was enough leftovers for his two houseguests. Sure enough, Callum spotted Rayla sitting at the table gobbling down food.

    “Rayla!” shouted Callum from the top of the stairs.

Rayla turned her head and beamed a smile at him, pastry crumbs falling from her full cheeks. She beckoned him come down to join her at the dinner table.

    “Uh, sure,” said Callum, “be there in a minute.”

He gingerly placed one foot on the stairs.

    “Ow.”

He shuffled his other leg onto the same stair then placed another foot down on the next stair.

    “Owie, ow,” he moaned.

    Rayla rolled her eyes and swallowed her morsel. “Just stay up there, ya big baby," she said smiling.

    Rayla tucked a handful of food into the crook of her arm and bounded up the stairs to where Callum stood waiting. “Hey, I’ll walk with you,” said Rayla and she mockingly dragged her leg behind her as they walked into Callum’s room.

“Very funny,” he said still shuffling his legs.

    Rayla entered the room first and arranged two chairs facing each other. She beckoned Callum to sit on one chair facing towards the backrest. “Sit there, I’ll give you my patented Moonshadow massages for the hard trainin' day,” she flexed her eight fingers in a squeezing motion.

Callum happily obliged, plopping into the chair with a painful grunt then placing his chin on the backrest. Rayla began to work her fingers into Callum’s knotted back. Her hands were strong and calloused from using a sword most of her life but they were also gentle whenever she found a particularly tense spot, applying pressure to coax his muscles to release.

    “So, how did trainin' go?” said Rayla as Callum began to relax.

    “Ugh, Rayla, why didn’t tell me your uncle was such a tyrant?” said Callum with a huff.

    “Because you wouldn’t have come with me if I told you,” Rayla said giggling, “besides, I think a little hardship looks good on ya. Did you get to do any Sunfire magic at least?”

    Callum felt his muscles and his mind begin to loosen up as Rayla’s skillful fingers worked up his shoulders, along his neck and just under the base of his skull. “Yup, that's the spot. But, no. Zelmai said he won’t teach me actual sun magic until I can place my fake primal stone into his pet cockatrice’s nest at the very top of the tree. There’s a lot more to this sunfire magic than I thought. It’s confusing and also nightmare fuel.”

    “I coulda’ told you that,” said Rayla, “I think you’re going to make a great Sunfire mage, Callym if you just stick with it.”

    She clapped her hands together and gave them a vigorous rub applying her warm palms against Callum neck. It felt a little bit like heaven. She then stood up and tossed off her vest and let her twin swords drop heavily onto the wood floor. “Ok! Ma’ turn,” she said, turning around and facing the back of her own chair.

Callum got up with a stretch, already feeling the relief in his back although his legs still felt like two cylinders of lead. This wasn’t the first time he and Rayla had exchanged back rubs but it was the first time Rayla’s back felt almost as knotted as his. He knitted his knuckles into her neck, working them up and down her spine and deep into her muscle fibers; just how she liked it.

    “What about you?” Callum asked, “did you find anything out about your parents?”

    Rayla sighed and Callum felt her neck tense up again. “Not exactly, but I did meet up with Nivin though he didn’t seem too keen on talkin'. Not yet anyway,” she said exhaling sharply as Callum used his elbow to work out a particularly tense knot under her shoulder blade.

    “Wait,” said Callum, “the same Nivin from the other night, Nivin?”

    “The very same,” answered Rayla.

Rayla explained to Callum how Zelmai and Nivin were related and pointed out the irony of very nearly destroying the one person who could help unravel the mystery surrounding her parents. She also talked about taking bardic lessons with Nivin and his mother and about the strange vision she saw of Runaan.

    “It was terrifyin'. It seemed so real,” she said and Callum could feel her skin tighten with goose bumps. Callum stopped massaging her neck and placed his hands on both of her shoulders.

    “I think you should keep training too,” he said, “maybe the image of Runaan was in your mind or maybe there’s more to this Bardic stuff than Sunfire elves strange tastes in music.”

    “Maybe yer’ right,” standing up and pushing the chair away. She motioned Callum to turn around and fold his arms across his chest. “Okay on the count of three. One... two...” she picked him up by his elbows and bent his spine across the front of her frame, causing a cascade of pops along his back. He laughed and moaned at both the relief and shock of the motion.

    “All better?” she laughed.

    “A little warning next time?” Callum laughed too rubbing his lower back and feeling relief for the first time that day.

Rayla looked into his eyes and placed a warm hand on his neck just under his ear. Callum felt the surging shyness flush his head and fill his cheeks with blood.

    ‘ _Is she going to kiss me... should I...?_ ’ thoughts rushed through his panicking brain but she only closed her eyes and gave with a warm smile, letting her hand fall gently away.

    “G'night, Callum,” she said picking up her vest and stepping out of his room.

Callum let the scene replay in his mind, thinking of all the ways he should have said something or done something. He couldn’t help but ruminate over his feelings for Rayla, trying to parse out what they meant and if he should say or do something.

    ‘ _Callum_ ,’ he thought to himself, ‘ _how you can be the only human in the world who can wield primal magic but still suck so bad at girls?_ ’

Once again, Callum had a restless night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad I was able to get through this part of the story as I really want to dive into the next set-pieces for the story as Aaravos' master plan for Viren begin to unfold. I also wanted to see Rayla explore some different possibilities for her future, based around her conversation with the good Pirate Villads in season 2.
> 
> Thanks again for reading and I'll be back next week with another chapter.


	4. Descent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Callum must overcome his Sunfire instructor's challenge to continue his training but is the cost of victory too great?

**Callum and Rayla**

Try as he might, Callum could not climb that tree. The rules of his teacher’s challenge sounded simple enough: without the use of tools, he had to place his fake primal stone, Mr. Sunny, into the nest at the very top of the tree. Simple rules except for the fact Mr. Sunny easily weighed over fifty pounds! Even Rayla found it a challenge to reach the first few branches without using the hooks of her swords. She could do it easily enough with a running start but certainly not while holding a stone a third of her body weight.

    Rayla was able to show Callum how she made the climb and he created a detailed drawing of her scaling to the top in an effort to mimic her own effort. Rayla had been a trained assassin for most of her life, and climbing trees was second nature for her but for Callum it was like learning to walk all over again. Callum refused to back down from the challenge, however, as his teacher Zelmai would not train him any further in Sunfire magic. So Callum toiled late into the evening after his daily training sessions, strategizing alone or with Rayla.

    Rayla was making little headway in her own plan of plying more information out of Nivin about where her parents had disappeared. Nivin was reluctant to talk about the tragic day other than to say that his father had survived the attack on the Dragon Guard but was so remorseful he had gone into self-exile.

    The one positive in Rayla’s life at the moment - other than Callum - was her bardic training. Her natural affinity with the Moon arcanum allowed her to conjure shapes, images and feelings with nothing more than the bardic cord and her sword. She had learned that the strands of the cord were made out of woven unicorn hair giving it strength to resist the elements as well as its magical properties. 

    It so happened, in Zelmai’s garden late into one evening that Rayla was practicing a particularly challenging bardic routine called the ‘March of the Sunfire Legion’. Rayla was finding Sunfire swordplay brutal and predictable unlike Moonshadow sword-work which was improvisational and flowing. Up until now, Rayla had been putting her own Moonshadow assassin spin on the Sunfire bardic routines but this particular routine required precision.

    Rayla began practicing her routine at the exact moment Callum was about to attempt his one hundredth and seventeenth running jump for the lower branches. The moment Rayla’s practice sword struck against the unicorn string, Callum felt a rush of energy flood his every muscle fibre. His entire body felt like it was suddenly being pulled back by the taut wire of a crossbow. He took off in a sprint so fast, he could hear his arms and legs whip through the air. He launched himself, feeling the cold wind pull back his hair and he very nearly passed over the branch completely. He embraced the trunk to prevent himself from falling over and gasped for air.

    Rayla could only stare, doing a double take between her bardic instruments and Callum’s miraculous leap.

    “Ha!” was the only thing Callum could muster in his excitement.

    He climbed back down and ran back over to Rayla who was holding her arms open wide to embrace him. They hugged and jumped up and down together. 

    “Great work, Callum! Ah’ knew you could do it if ye’ kept at it!”

    Callum pulled away from their hug and gave her a quizzical look.

    “There’s no way that was all me. Something in your song made me feel like I could run faster than a Cheetahger. Do you think you could do it again?”

    Rayla nodded, going over her routine again in her mind. Her first attempt was sloppy, like when she first began training to be an assassin under Runaan’s tutelage. She shadow fenced the routines a few times while Callum retrieved Mr. Sunny from out of his training satchel.

    “Ok, let’s do this,” said Callum looking focused while holding the heavy rock with both hands.

    Rayla began her routine. She stepped forward with her right foot to pull the bardic cord out in front of her. Holding the practice sword with both hands, she struck the string, emitting a low note. She spun around, her momentum looping the braided cord around her horns. With her right hand on the hilt and her left on the sword’s blade she made a parrying move against the cord emitting a lively cacophony of sound while blurring the air around her with a golden light.

    Once again, Callum felt his muscles surge. He sprinted with all his might, using the weight of the stone to propel him forward though now it felt about as heavy as his art book. He easily leapt to the lower branches and looked back to see that Rayla was in the middle of her cantor. His muscles still charged, he easily bounded up the tree using three points of contact, tucking the ball into the crook of his arm. Branches whipped past him, he ignored their scratching attempts to stop him. Higher and higher he climbed until he began to feel the effects of Rayla’s song weaken. A monstrously large bird thrashed the branches above him as it was awakened by the big, dumb human invading its territory.

    “Cah-CAAAWWW!” cried Hartmon the cockatrice into the calm night.

    “Sorry buddy,” said Callum with a smile, “but destiny awaits.”

    Reaching up with the ball that suddenly felt as heavy as it did back on the ground, Callum leaped and used the very tips of his fingers to slip the ball into the bird’s nest. The bird assisted, using its giant hooked beak to roll the ball into the centre of its nest.

    Callum cheered. Though he realized it wasn’t a personal victory and he wondered if by using Rayla’s newfound power it would disqualify him. It really didn’t matter, he thought of it as a team victory and was excited to share the moment with his best friend.

    “We did it, Rayla!” he shouted down from the top of the tree, “Mr. Sunny is in the nest!”

    There was no answer from down below.

    “Rayla?” he shouted again.

    Callum climbed down a few branches to see where Rayla had disappeared. He presumed she might have walked out from the tree trunk to get a better vantage point but as he got closer to the ground, he could see Rayla lying on the ground motionless beside her training sword and bardic cord.

    “Rayla!” he cried.

    He slid down the tree as fast as he could muster. Adrenaline masking the feeling of rough bark scratching against his skin. He jumped down from the lower branches and combat rolled as Rayla had once taught him to.

    He ran up to Rayla, her face was pale and her skin was mottled with red blotches. A thin dribble of crimson blood ran down from her nose. He could see her corneas whipping back and forth under her eyelids. He brushed her hair back from her face called her name several times without a response.

    “Congratulations on finishing your first task,” bellowed Zelmai as he stepped into the evening air.

    “Zelmai!” Callum cried, “please come help, Rayla is hurt!”

    Zelmai jogged over, carefully applying his walking cane to prod the ground in front of him. Callum grabbed his hand guiding him down towards Rayla’s face. Zelmai leaned over and placed both hands on her face, his hands emitting a faint glow as he moved from Rayla’s cheeks to her forehead. 

    Callum’s face was pained and he felt the bitter sting of tears welling in his eyes. 

    ‘ _How could I be so clueless?’_ Callum thought to himself, rubbing the tears from his eyes, _‘I should never have asked her to use magic just to help me… cheat.’_

_“_ Her soul is injured,” said Zelmai, “but I can’t help her out here in the dark. Bring her inside.”

    “It—it’s okay to move her?”

    “Yes! I said her soul, not her spine,” Zelmai answered while walking inside.

    Callum raised Rayla up by her arm, crouching down to lift her torso between her shoulders. He stood up, keeping her limp body in place by holding on to her leg. Just a few weeks ago, he probably wouldn’t have had the core strength to carry Rayla but he now found her to be remarkably light. 

    Zelmai led them inside his lodge. He walked up to the fireplace and pushed a secret combination of stones which glowed after he completed the code. The fireplace swung around and revealed a passage down a flight of stairs which were lit by a bright light from below. Zelmai beckoned Callum to follow him down the narrow stairs and Callum had to sidestep to fit Rayla’s dangling form.

    The source of the light in the stairs was revealed to be a fiery, glowing sphere hovering over a table as black as obsidian and inlaid with golden runes. Callum understood that the light was one of several planets arranged in a model of the solar system. Multiple planets were held up by brass gears and appeared to move in alignment with the actual sun, moon and stars.

    “Place her on the table, my boy. Quickly now,” Zelmai said, walking over to the far wall where a number of levers were located.

    “What happened to her?” Callum voice cracked as he asked the question.

    “It’s not my area of expertise, but I believe she may be locked in the plane of spirits.” 

    Callum wanted to ask more questions but instead he sat on the table, gently rolling Rayla off of his back and on to the cold stone. He held onto Rayla’s hand, giving it a squeeze and only feeling the cold clamminess of her skin. Zelmai ran his hands over the levers, searching for the proper configuration. He pushed a number of controls and Callum watched as a metal lid wrapped itself around the glowing orb, blinking it off and on again as the tiny planetoids preceded through various phases. The strobing light made Callum feel ill and he tried to blink away the burning after-images from his eyes, until finally the only light from the ceiling was a bluish pall from a miniature full moon.

    “Remember, Callum. Almost every Arcanum derive their power from the sun, even the moon is a reflection of it. Now, place one hand on the top of her head making sure you have skin on skin contact. Then take her hand within your own and hold on to it as tight as you can.”

    Callum did as he was told, running her hand through her hair, spreading his fingers until he was sure he felt her scalp. He intertwined his five fingers within her four and maintained a firm grip. Zelmai placed his own hand on Rayla’s forehead, whispering an incantation. He drew a complex rune within the air, the fiery lines of it fizzled and cracked dropping ash from the air. Zelmai opened his eyes and once again Callum saw the pure white light burst forth only this time it wasn’t a blinding light, but a warm and nourishing one that felt like his soul was starving for its purity. Callum wanted to lose himself in the light, instead Zelmai reached out with the palm of his hand and smacked Callum hard on his forehead.

    “Go get her,” were the last words Callum remembered.

    Callum was thrown backwards, except it wasn’t his physical form, it was a ghostly visage of his real form. He saw his real self still holding on to Rayla’s forehead while his ghostly visage twisted around the arm, spinning around it like water flowing down a drain and into Rayla’s mind. For the briefest moment, he felt the naked void of death surrounding him. It made his real body shiver, but before the cold could overwhelm him, he was pulled ever deeper into Rayla’s mind. Images whipped by, some he recognized, like the cave ledge near the Xadian border. Rayla holding him with tears in her eyes. Other images were of foreign, verdant lands he had never visited. Elven faces he couldn’t recognize, thoughts that weren’t his blurring through his mind. 

    His descent began to slow as the image of a ballroom grew closer within his mind. The room was ancient and looked like it had been carved from the trunk of a massive tree. Inside the ballroom, hazy apparitions dressed in regal clothes danced and spun to some silent song. Callum looked around, most faces were clouded by an ethereal vale except for one lively young woman who was spinning alone in time to the song. Callum approached the woman who was wearing a long ballgown and had her silver hair tied back with green ribbon. It was Rayla!

    “Rayla!” Callum tried to call out but his voice wouldn’t form in his throat. He waved his hands to try to get her attention.

    That was when Callum noticed two other spirits vying for Rayla’s attention. This spirits were large, elven and seemed distantly familiar to Callum though he couldn’t place them.

    He reached Rayla and found that his hands could touch her. The ghostly Rayla opened her eyes with his touch and as soon as she recognized Callum she embraced him. She grabbed both of his hands and tried to lead them into the middle of the dance floor but Callum held back, pointing up to the ceiling back the same way he came. Rayla shook her head and opened her arms to show Callum that, like her, he was dressed for the occasion. Callum became aware that he was wearing the same regal clothes as the other dancers and laughed in silence at the absurdity. 

    Rayla placed her hand on the small of his back, grabbing his other hand and they began to twirl. Callum started to hear the music. It was the most beautiful music he heard in his life, no wonder everyone here was so happy. He looked into Rayla’s eyes, those lilac coloured eyes so full of life, always encouraging him to be a better person. He didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world as they twirled and danced to the ever growing sound of music.

    The two other ghosts cut in. One shoved Callum so hard he soared up into the ceiling. Rayla reached out to him but she was being pulled away by the two ghosts. Callum remembered why he was there and he propelled himself down, he spun in the air and kicked the same ghost that had pushed him, sending it to the floor. He went to attack the other ghost carrying Rayla away but it had let go of its grip on her and floated back to the ghost lying on the floor.

    Callum wrapped his arms around Rayla who was now kicking and punching Callum’s ghost. Ethereal tear drops streamed away from her eyes. 

    With all the will he could muster, Callum shouted, “Zelmai! Bring us back!”

    They were pulled backwards in an instant, passing the same imagery in reverse. He held on to Rayla as tight as he could but Rayla was struggling, moving her mouth in a silent scream. Her voice started to form as they got closer to the surface. He lost his grip on Rayla when they reached the part of the journey where he had once felt only death. He exited Rayla’s body through their entwined hands and was back again inside his own mind.

    Rayla’s eyes opened wide and she screamed, “let me go! Bring me back, I need to go back!”

    Callum went to hold Rayla but she pushed him away. A hurt look passed over Callum’s face and the thought crossed his mind that he might have pulled back the wrong person. Zelmai was sitting on the floor, his back against the stone table.

    Rayla started to sob, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. Callum reached over the table to Rayla but pulled back his hand.

    “Rayla? Rayla, I thought I lost you,” he said.

    “I recognized them, Callum,” she said between sobs.

    “Who?”

    “My parents, my ma and da.”

    Callum didn’t know what to do. He climbed onto the table and wrapped his arms around Rayla’s shivering form, rocking her gently. Rayla buried her head in Callum chest and cried. 

**Callum**

Callum didn’t want to eat. The morning light was starting to creep up over the horizon and the birdsong was a bitter reminder that another day of training was about to begin. Only an hour ago, he had helped Rayla up the stairs and tucked her into her bed. He couldn’t shake off the creeping guilt of what his hubris had done to her. He wanted to shout, cry, and be angry but he was also so relieved that she was back in the land of the living.

    He didn’t notice Zelmai coming up the stairs from his basement until he heard the scrape on the floor from a chair pulling out from the table. His teacher didn’t say anything at first, only reaching for the closest jelly tart and popping it in his mouth. He chewed the thing loudly, smacking his lips and making Callum uncomfortable.

    “So,” Zelmai said with a mouth full of food, “quite a night.”

    Callum sighed and nodded forgetting for a second that Zelmai was blind.

    “Quite,” he said, “I very nearly killed my closest friend. I can’t believe I was so stupid.”

    “Stupid _and_ reckless,” Zelmai added, sending a powdery puff of crumbs onto the table. 

    Callum buried his face into his hands and tried to rub away the painful emotions and bitter weariness.

    “Ah,” Zelmai said, “don’t be too hard on yourself, kiddo. You brought her back and that’s the most important thing.”

    That was no consolation to Callum as all he wanted to do was distract himself from the previous night’s near tragedy. He got up from his chair, stretched and made his way to the back of the kitchen, ready to tackle another day of trying to climb that stupid tree.

    “Where do you think you’re going?” Zelmai asked, stopping Callum in his tracks, “your bedroom’s up there.”

    “But I thought…” 

    “But nothing, you’re in no shape for training today. I want your mind rested and ready to learn actual Sunfire magic.”

    Callum froze, confused. He wondered if this was another test, another joke to sap his willpower. After all the weeks of cumulative mental fatigue, and nearly losing Rayla he was at the breaking point with his master. He wanted to curse at him except the for the look on Zelmai’s face. Maybe he wasn’t joking.

    “But I didn’t pass the test,” Callum began, “I cheated.”

    Zelmai shrugged, “you got the stone in the nest, you didn’t use tools and you changed a little bit as a person. That was my lesson of the tree and you passed.”

    “I don’t understand, what do you mean ‘I changed as a person’?”

    Zelmai made a motion for Callum sit back down at the table. Callum sat next to Zelmai.

    “The thing about Sunfire magic is that it is far too powerful for any mage to actually control, no matter how strong in spirit, willpower or physical strength that mage may be. Before any Sunfire mage casts his first spell he must be willing to let go of himself. He understands that he is no more than a conduit for its energies and that his will is secondary to the will of the sun.”

    “Wait, the sun has a will of its own?” asked Callum confused.

    Zelmai shook his head holding up his hands.

    “No, my apologies but yours is a crude language incapable of accurately describing what we cannot see or test ourselves. When I say ‘will’, what I mean is it's the will that drives the forest fire to destroy all life within its path. It's the will that fertilizes once fallow land granting life the will to thrive and surround us physically and immaterially. A taste of the immaterial is what you experienced first hand last night. Are you starting to understand?”

    “I think so,” Callum lied.

    Zelmai put his hand on his shoulder giving it a firm squeeze.

    “You’re a bad liar, Callum. I’ve been teaching this art for almost 70 years and even I don’t understand it completely. But that’s what life is all about, knowing just enough to say ‘I can’t do this myself’ and asking for help from the arcanum and more importantly, from the ones you love.”

    Callum smiled, for the first time really understanding what Zelmai was saying. He got up, clearing away the food and the dishes from the table and washed them in the sink. He walked up the stairs towards his room, then noticed that Rayla’s door down the hall was open. He went to close her door when he heard her shuffling under her bed covers.

    “Callum?” she said just loud enough for him to hear.

    “Hey,” he said, poking his head in, “you should get some sleep.”

    She sat up in bed, propping her head up on the pillows and wearing a forlorn look on her face.

    “It’s just that, you know… I uhhh,” she couldn’t complete her thought but Callum knew how she felt in this moment.

    “I know. It’s so strange to disassociate from your own body like that.”

    “Yes, but that’s not just it. You see when elves depart from this world, we really go. Like, gone gone. No ghosts, zilch, nothing. And seeing ma’ parents’ souls stuck here like rats in a cage…”

    She closed her eyes covering her face with her hands. Callum knew the beginning of an existential crisis when he saw it. He knelt down beside her bed.

    “Hey, look, how can we be so sure that it was really them? They looked like all the other ghosts to me.”

    “I dunno,” she said, still covering her face with her hands, “they just felt so real.”

    “Well, maybe after a good night’s rest you’ll have a better perspective on things. And you can always talk to me about it, okay?”

    “Okay,” said Rayla, dropping her hands from her face and letting a tiny smile pull the corner of her mouth. “Thanks.”

    “You bet. Sleep well,” Callum said standing up.

    Rayla put her hand on his, halting him. The warmth was finally back in her hand but she was shaking. She looked up at him with wide eyes.

    “Callum, would it be okay if you just stayed here with me until I fell asleep?”

    Callum returned her smile, about to sit on the hard wood floor until Rayla pulled a pillow from her bed. Grinning, she gave it a few hard whacks to fluff it up then handed it over to Callum. She reached back for Callum’s hand and gave it a squeeze. He sat there in silence, Callum’s thumb caressing the back of her palm, grateful to feel its warmth again. 

    Once her breathing deepened and slowed he stood up to leave.

    “Callum,” she whispered, ”thank you for… for coming to get me.”

    “Of course,” he said, “you know I’d do anything for you, Rayla.”

    “I know. I'd do anythin' for you, too.”

    Callum looked down at Rayla - so peaceful and so heroic - his best friend and companion, and realized for the first time just how much he loved her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed writing this chapter. It's always so fascinating to use fanfic to explore places that are implied in the main canon. I took my reference from S2E1 as Lujanne explains to Callum how moon druids used the Moonhenge to open a portal to another plane "a shimmering world beyond life and death".


	5. Ascent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaravos and Viren put their plan into action. And a mystery is afoot as Claudia and Soren begin their own quest.

**Viren**

Time is a funny thing when you have no sense of reference. It’s like living in the bilge of a ship while tossed at sea; without a horizon to get your bearings, one loses equilibrium and the body responds with fits of nausea. When one loses its equilibrium of time, the body responds by being at first hyper aware of every passing moment and then it slips into a kind of lackadaisical malaise. Months of being locked away in near darkness gave Viren fine control of his sense of time. For him it was yet another thing he could manipulate, a type of magic for his own mind. He could will away the days by closing his eyes or he could hone in on the briefest snapshot of time’s passing like a series of paintings going by his eyes.

    But of all days, the universe decided today would be the day for a thunderstorm, removing Viren’s ability to fast-forward through this day. Each thunderclap another pang of torment, like the very elements themselves decided they would throw in their lot to pile on to his misery. Today was the day he was to be executed.

    Viren heard the jailor’s keys jingle as the man struggled - like he did every single day - to find the right key to turn the lock. The old jailor opened the metal cell door letting the hinges moan. Every action this tired old jailor made grated on Viren’s nerves, and in a sense Viren was relieved this would be the last time he’d have to put up with this old man’s annoyances. The jailor held aloft a wooden tray, the smell of its contents wafting to Viren’s nose. It was the first time since Viren was locked in this cell that he experienced real food cooked above room temperature.

    “Your last meal,” said the jailor his voice dripping with derision, “medium rare steak, fried mushrooms, and raw brussel sprouts, as requested.”

    The jailor dropped the tray at Viren’s feet, and Viren thought for a minute that the old man would leave him chained there, to let him smell the food and watch it grow cold. But the jailor took pity on him and uncuffed his wrists.

    “You’ve got 10 minutes to enjoy that meal then we take you outside.”

    The jailor left the cell, slamming the door behind him and mumbling something incoherent to the guards standing outside the door. Viren waited until he heard the metallic clinking of his boots fade away to silence before he began to talk.

    “You…” he said to the voice in his head, “you made me sacrifice everything for this?!”

    As his rage boiled, he wanted to pick up the tray and throw it against the wall. How could he be so stupid to trust the cloying voice that only spoke in half truths. He wanted answers.

    “Why did you make me request this disgusting meal? I can’t stand mushrooms and I hate brussels sprouts!”

    “ _We need the organic matter to apply the spell, and the mushrooms provide a tiny link to the underworld,_ ” answered the buttery soft voice. 

    “And the steak?”

    “ _What can I say? I just thought you might be hungry._ ”

    Viren shrugged, grasping the steak with dirty fingers he took a few bites and discovered the voice was right, he was famished for actual food. He removed the tiny shard of the dragon’s horn from his pocket and laid it onto the pile of mushrooms in the middle of the ceramic plate. He held the brussel sprouts in his right hand while Aaravos described the rune in his mind.

    “ _Make the Invictus Maledictum rune but instead of an upper stroke, you will be adding a half-moon flourish to the bottom. Then cite these words…_ ”

    Viren performed the steps as Aaravos instructed. The rune was complex and emitted a nauseating yellow line in the air above the shard. It smelled of rotting flesh and made Viren gag from its putrefaction. He pulped the brussels sprouts in his fist and poured its juices over the shard watching as it absorbed the fluid. The shard began to sprout tiny green dendrites from its keratinous skin. As the dendrites grew, everything they touched instantly began to rot as the sands of time rushed by. The rotting effluent was absorbed into the shard. The ceramic plate, the wooden tray, mushrooms all rotted away to liquid then consumed by the shard as it grew ever-larger in size, twisting into a cone lined with snotty green streaks of bile. Eventually the shard ceased its expanse and throbbed on the floor like a diseased but still living organ. Viren picked it up and shuddered at the raw power coursing through it. The rotting yellow streaks curled up his arm, into his shoulder and within his own organs. Viren grinned as an indigo shade of blue replaced his pale complexion.

    “Ok, that’s about enough time to finish yer’…” said the Jailor when he opened the door. He didn’t have time to finish his words before he was thrust backwards from the explosive blast. Viren twirled the dragon horn wand between his fingers, feeling alive with real power once again.

    Two more guards rushed into the jail cell, swinging their drawn weapons at Viren. But the wand was quicker, unleashing a stream of putrefying bile at both guards. The goo hardened and they were encased within it like insects in amber. 

    Viren knew these labyrinthine dungeons well and where exactly he had to go. Aaravos was in his ear, telling Viren when to stop and duck into the shadows to allow a patrol to pass and when the path was clear again. Viren stopped at a wall, pressing a combination into the stones before it slid open revealing a spiralling staircase. It felt so good to be back in his old lab, even if was only temporary. Most of the room had been looted except for the hidden compartments that would only open for him. He put on his old mage robe, still containing the clinking leather pouch as well as a component bag filled with magical reagents. 

    “ _Find the mirror,_ ” Aaravos reminded him.

    Viren tucked a few components in his pockets and crept into the prison cell that once housed a Moonshadow Elf named Runaan. This was the last place he left Aaravos’ mirror but it was no where to be found. The voice in his ear whispered a curse but Viren assuaged him, telling him to keep a lookout for more guards. Viren knew of only one person in the entire castle who’d have that mirror.

**Claudia**

She didn’t want this day to come. She wished there was some sort of spell that would stop the sun from rising, instead she got only a rain storm. At least no one would see her crying. Claudia had steeled herself for the day she would lose another parent. Both herself and Soren had pleaded and received assurances from King Ezran that he would make Viren’s case before the High council for banishment but instead they chose to execute her father. Claudia had heard that Viren admitted to murdering King Harrow but that didn’t seem possible. Viren loved Harrow like a brother, their two families were so close. She wondered if Callum knew?

    Exhaling a deep sigh, she poured herself a cup of hot brown morning potion and filled a decanter to bring to Soren. She then cast a rain repellant spell on her black vale and an overcoat before putting these items on, but leaving the decanter on her desk. As she was about to leave her room she felt the small hairs in the back of her neck prickle as a curious source of energy bloomed behind her. She turned around but nothing was there, just her dresser, her bed and her father’s old mirror - the same mirror that once belonged to the Dragon King. For the briefest of moments, she thought it called out her name, but she set the feeling aside leaving her room to find her brother.

    The hot brown morning potion was already taking effect, as the weariness left her mind, went down her stomach and out her toes. She would face the day, and she was glad her brother was going to be with her. Now that Soren was a Captain, his room was upstairs, closer to the King’s chamber. She passed some guards and attendants who refused to make eye contact with her and the ones who did quickly averted their eyes. It was almost as if she was the one about to be executed. Soren’s door was closed and she gave it a few hard knocks. When she didn’t get a reply she pushed the door latch, finding it unlocked.

    “Sor-Sor? Are you decent?” she said, keeping her eyes closed as she poked her head through the doorway.

    “Oh, Clauds! Help me pick out a shirt for the Kings ball next week,” he said struggling to put on an extra tight tank top. “The unofficial theme is ‘single-knights', so I wanted to wear something that really accentuates my thunder!” 

    He struck a pose wearing his too tight tank shirt.

    Claudia twisted her face into a knot thinking his brother had finally lost his mind.

    Soren’s face went slack, not clueing in, “yeah, you’re right… too desperate. I wonder if Dad still has his blue suede robe in his closet?”

    “Soren!” Claudia exclaimed, “what’s the matter with you! You do know what day it is don’t you?”  
Soren furrowed his eyebrows, “it’s Fri…day?”

    “It’s Dad’s… urgggh!” she never wanted to punch her older brother more badly than right now, “it’s the last day we’re ever going to see Dad.”

    Soren dropped his eyes and sat down on his bed. Hanging his elbows loosely on his knees.

    “Oh,” he said, “that’s today already?”

    Claudia bit the inside of her cheek, a bad habit she started. She plopped down hard on the bed next to her brother. She leaned forward, placing her elbows on her knees mirroring her brother’s pose. They didn’t have to speak in moments like these, their sibling connection was strong enough.

    “How you doing, Sor?” she finally asked.

    “I dunno. I guess… numb? He’s been gone from us for so long that I guess I thought of him as already d…de…” he sniffed hard.

    “It’s okay, you don’t have to say that word,” she said trying to soothe her brother by making reassuring pats and circles between his shoulders. It’s the same reassuring technique that Soren always used on her whenever life became overwhelming. Claudia needed a lot of reassurance after their mother ran away. Though he never said it, Claudia always felt like Soren blamed himself.

    “Here, I made you some hot brown morning potion,” Claudia said reaching for the decanter she thought she had attached to her belt. “Oops, I must have left it back in my room. Let’s go for a walk.”

**Viren and Aaravos**

Thankfully, Claudia’s room was empty when Viren walked in. He scanned his daughter’s room and nearly missed spotting the mirror as it had been draped with his daughter’s apparel and covered with various adhesive paintings of boy-bards. Viren rolled his eyes at the minor desecration of this priceless artefact, cringing as he pulled away the clothing and trying fruitlessly to peel off the stickers.

    The runes surrounding the mirror began to glow and Viren’s image began to fade with a blue fog, replaced with Aaravos. The tall, blue elf stared back at Viren from the mirror, beaming a proud smile.

    “ _It is good to see you again, Viren,_ ” said Aaravos, and Viren admitted it was good to see the familiar face as well. 

    Aaravos began to carve a rune into the air, “ _use the very tip of the wand to etch this rune into the mirror’s glass._ ”

    As Viren began to etch the rune into the glass, the mirror recoiled and began to wail within his mind. Both Aaravos and Viren winced. Viren continued, watching as the etched lines filled with a green, ichorous fluid. It began to spread out from the rune, infecting the glass with sickly yellow tendrils. When Viren completed the rune, the wailing was like one continuous shattering of glass. The psychic effect was overwhelming, even for Aaravos whose face contorted at the pain. The little insect that had been cohabiting inside Viren’s ear for so many months exploded in a tiny, liquid burst.

    Inside the mirror’s reflection, Aaravos held out his hands reaching them towards Viren. The glass seemed to bend in response to his touch and Viren knew he had to reach back from his side to complete the spell. Viren squared up with the mirror and began to reach up to grab Aaravos’ hands.

    “Dad!” Claudia called out behind him.

    Viren turned around and saw his daughter burst into her bedroom, his son trailed behind her with his sword drawn. They both felt the psychic effects of the screaming mirror and covered their ears but to no avail as the screaming came from their minds.

    “Don’t stop me!” Viren shouted over the sound in his mind, “I have no other choice!”

    Claudia’s mental discipline was stronger than Soren’s who immediately lost consciousness at the psychic thrashing. Claudia’s eyes went black with the dark magic energies coursing throughout the room. Her mind filled with rage, hers and the will of a more powerful and completely unknown entity crying out in agony.

    “Dad, please stop! Let me help you!” she cried out. Her head began to swim and her body started to ache like it was fighting off an oncoming flu. 

    “I don’t want to harm you Claudia, but I will if you leave me no choice,” said Viren turning back and reaching up to Aaravos’ hands now poking completely out of the mirror.

    “Mih dnib, leets ginirehtiw!” she cried out the binding spell as her metal bracelet slithered into life. Snakes darted from her hand towards her father, wrapping themselves around his legs. They pulled him down hard to the floor and twisted up his torso, binging his arms to his sides as he struggled.

    Claudia reached over at first to Soren, trying to rouse him then checking to see that he was okay. She then approached her father still struggling on the floor. Viren had his hand on the dragon horn wand. With the tips of his fingers, he managed to angle the wand towards Claudia’s face. Claudia’s eyes went wide the second she saw the weapon in her father’s hand emit a green glow, brimming with power. Viren told himself he’d make it quick.

    Claudia was stunned by the green flash of light but the bile that the wand belched forth bounced harmlessly away, her clothes were protected by the liquid repellant spell she had cast only a short time ago. Claudia tried to open her eyes but her head pounded like she was fighting off two fevers at the same time. Having lost her focus, the binding snakes dropped lifelessly away from Viren. He got up and stood before the mirror containing Aaravos, pausing for a moment to look back at his daughter who turned to face him, her face unfocused. He took the Startouched elf’s hands within his own and the two bodies, human and elf merged into one. The sound of the thunderclap echoed throughout the castle, dousing out lit candles as all air and sound was suddenly vacuumed into nothingness by the momentary rip in space and time. The entire castle gasped like a lung inflating with air as windows smashed inwards and shards of debris flew through corridors like daggers.

    Everyone within Katolis castle coughed and sputtered as oxygen violently expelled then filled their lungs again. Everyone that is except for Aaravir. The perfect amalgam of Startouch Elf and Human. One half of his face retained Aaravos’ elven features whereas the other half was distinctly human save for a slightly pointed ear. The new creation inhaled deeply, drinking in the world for the very first time. The pair looked back at the mirror’s reflection and saw a naked figure sprawled on the floor in the den that once contained Aaravos. He also had half-elf half-man features, but he was withered and frail.

    “What shall we do about him, hmm?” Aaravir asked themselves.

    “What about him? It is only our destiny that matters!” the amalgam hissed with laughter.

    Using the last of the dragon wand’s power, Aaravir smashed the mirror. The last cry from its wooden frame whimpering in death.

    Aaravir stepped towards Claudia, boots crushing shards of glass beneath black leather boots. He reached out to grab her but the sound of beating wings from outside the castle distracted them.

    “Another time, daughter,” said Aaravir.

    Aaravir turned and raced towards the jagged remains of the window. The man-elf amalgam flung himself off the window edge and sailed into the pouring rain, down towards the castle moat. The moat grew larger before their eyes and a part of Aaravir panicked before the form of a dragon appeared suddenly underneath them. He landed hard on the beast's back, knocking the wind from his lungs for a brief moment, before he reoriented himself. Aaravir patted the dragon's blue skinned neck as rain whipped like glass against his face. He welcomed the pain, smiling as a plan formed inside his collective minds.

    “Let us build an army,” he said as the dragon flew above the clouds.

**Claudia**

Claudia awoke to hear Soren coughing. Her own lungs burned like they had just been scoured with a wire brush. Soren was sitting on her bed, surrounded by broken debris and sipping from the decanter of her hot brown morning potion. He would take a sip and sputter.

    “Hey Clauds, I think I figured out what to call this liquid,” he said coughing again.

    “What are you talking about?” asked Claudia still struggling to stand up.

    “You should call it… ‘hacky’ because it makes me cough whenever I drink it.”

    Claudia shook her head, amazed and a little jealous that her brother could so easily make light of crazy situations. She conceded ‘hacky' wasn’t a bad name though she’d never admit it. She filled her brother in on what happened just after he passed out. She explained that she also must have lost consciousness after their Dad shot her in the face with a green light. She scowled when she remembered the banal, determined look within her father’s eyes. What she didn’t want to dwell on was if that look meant he was resigned to actually kill her. There was something else too, a strange voice that called her his daughter. She shook the thought away. Besides, she was currently distracted by something in the room creating a terrible stench.

    “Pee-ew, Soren! When was the last time you took a bath?” she said plugging her nose.

    “Last night. Why? Oh, oof! Yeah I know what you mean, something died in here!”

    The searched the room looking for the source of the smell. Claudia found it lying among shards of glass at the foot of the mirror. She leaned over to look at the bluish cone, streaks of necrotic flesh bubbling with rot. She nearly gagged at the smell.

    “Oh, my gosh, Soren. This thing smells so bad, come smell it,” she said pointing at the decaying dragon horn.

    “Claudia, seriously. How many times in our life do you think I’m going to fall for that?”

    “I’m being serious. Tell me if you recognize this thing.”

    Soren plugged his nose and leaned over to get a better look at the disgusting organ. It was beginning to retain its former shard-like shape as it oozed out a black ichor. Soren leaned back keeping his fingers on his nostrils. 

    “It looks a bit like that horn I cut off from that dragon last year,” he said nasally.

    Claudia’s heart fell into the pit of her stomach as the sudden realization of what it was and where it came from dawned on her. She slapped her forehead hard with the palms of her hands and left them there, hoping it would wake her up from this sudden nightmare. It was ineffective.

    “Sooooren…” she said letting her voice rise at the end.

    “Nope, no way. Nuh-uh,” Soren said closing his eyes and backing away with his hands raised, “I know exactly what that voice means. I do not want to know if you are in some way involved in this.”

    Claudia paced back and forth, shaking her hands at her wrists. This was a full blownpanic attack on her emotional horizon, and it was a big one.

    ‘ _Breath,_ ’ she reminded herself, ‘ _deep, calming breaths. Emotions aren’t real, actions are._ ’

    Soren sighed and sat back down on her bed, brushing off bits of glass and wood with his gloved hand. He patted a cleared patch of bed next to him and looked at his sister.

    “Come here and tell me everything exactly.”

    And talk she did. Soren’s face went through every emotion as she described how she brought Dad the incandescent butterfly and the strange look Dad made when he drained its tiny life force. She told Soren how their last visit ended, with their Dad wanting a piece of the dragon horn shard before he screamed at her to leave him alone. How she would occasionally come by to visit only to hear their Dad having full conversations with himself. How sad she felt at their once proud Dad turning into a feeble creature and so she cast a spell on the sparrow to bring the dragon shard to their Dad’s cell.

    “That shard has so many potential uses, but its best use is bridging between two places. I thought he’d use it to talk to us at night or maybe even to reach out to Mom.”

    Soren sighed, “Claudia, Clods, Clowdia…”

    “Don’t call me that,” she growled.

    “Aren’t I usually the one that gets us into these messes?”

    “What am I going to do, Soren?” she said feeling sting of tears welling up in her eyes.

    He slapped one knee and stood up, “We are going to tell the King.”

    Claudia looked up at her brother with her wet eyes, opening them as wide as possible while sticking out her bottom lip.

    “That’s not going to work this time,” he said looking away, “I’m a Captain in the King’s guard plus I would never let anyone do anything to hurt you.”

    “You promise?”

    “I promise, “ he said, and he meant it, “but first, I could really go for another hot cup of hacky!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to dip into some more necromandic magic this chapter and things are going to get really real going forward. I love writing my two favourite dorks, Soren and Claudia.


	6. Sages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rayla is forced to make a difficult choice when it comes to Callum. Claudia and Soren tell the King about the attack on Castle Katolis.

 

**Claudia**

The insides of Katolis castle howled like a wounded animal. With no windows or doors to bar the raging storm, people who would have found refuge within its corridors were now exposed to the storms ferocity. Claudia and her brother left her room and found the corridor funnelled the storm’s power into a vortex . Claudia led the way using the remnants of  her rain repulsion spell to keep the sting of wind-driven rain off of their skin. Shards of debris was another matter altogether.

Soren braced his sister’s shoulders as they both climbed the winding staircase up to the King’s chamber. A wooden chair flew down the staircase aiming for the pair and Soren thrashed out his sword smashing the heavy furniture into wooden shards. The pair parried projectiles until they found the top of the stairs where the King had kept his council chambers. It was like some giant child had swept away its kingdom of toys. Heavy wooden doors hung from their steel hinges and Claudia could see the insides of the chamber buzzing with council members and soldiers.

Soren entered the council chambers ahead of Claudia, sheathing his sword and running over to King Ezren who was clutching his hand to his chest. Ezren waved Soren away.

    “Thank you but I’m fine," said the young King, "go and help the others."

Claudia ran up to King Ezren and pulled a number of magical reagents from her bag holding them out in front of her. Ezren gave her a puzzled look at first, but did not object at her unspoken request.

    “King Ezren, I know you’ve decreed to put a moratorium on Dark Magic at least allow me to treat the seriously wounded.”

The King closed his eyes and nodded solemnly. Claudia began her work, using a mortar and pestle to a crush dried flowers into a fine pumice. Ezren grimaced watching her crush living grasshoppers into the concoction. Claudia went around to all the injured in the room, placing flowers on their eyes then rubbing a dab of the foul tasting goo on their lips. She stood in front of King Ezren with a half smile.

    “My liege. You need to take your medicine,” she held her index finger up with a tiny dap of the green goo.

Ezren sighed, closed his eyes and stuck out his lips. It was an adorable moment that made Claudia remember the little boy who was once her friend and not the King. She smeared his lips with the goo and he recoiled at its taste, sticking out his tongue then gagging as the medicine went inside his mouth.

    Claudia stood in the middle of the room, her irises glowing a ghostly cyan as she spoke her dark incantation, “Sdnuow eseht ot efil gnirb!”

Into the air she flung a dazzling flurry of tiny purple lights which descended like dandelion seeds into mouths and wounds. Tiny lights flashed as they landed on those with the most grievous of injuries and they cried out as they felt bones and tissues stitch themselves together.

Slowly, the wounded began to stand as they tested their once injured limbs, now fully healed. Many members of the council smiled and gave Claudia thanks, some simply remained somber in the moment. One or two scowled and these are these were faces Claudia took to heart. It was King Ezren who came over to her, grasping her forearm in a tender grip with his once wounded hand.

    “Thank you Captain Soren and Claudia for coming to our aid so quickly after this... tragedy,” King Ezren said with an air of leadership but Claudia could sense a bit of fear in his words. She knew she would have to tell him the truth about what occurred.

    “King Ezren, I need to tell you about what happened…”

    Soren cut in, “um, in private if you please?”

King Ezren frowned, his eyes darting between Soren and Claudia’s pleading faces. He dropped his gaze and raised one hand up in a shrug. He gave Opeli an order to lead the rescue operation in his stead for the time being. He lead them into the King’s personal meeting room, its door still intact.

The castle implosion had spared this room. Through multicoloured glass the storm's lightning made grim shadows. Soren and Claudia stood in front of couch nestled in the nook between two bookshelves. King Ezren pulled a high backed chair from the desk so he could sit closer to the two siblings. As decorum dictated, they did not sit until after he did.

    “Guys please,” he said holding out his hand, “no need for deference now. I only want answers about what just happened if you have any.”

Claudia turned her face down to the floor, picking at her thumbnail with her finger. Soren gave her a hard nudge with his elbow. She looked into the King’s eyes and sighed. She told him everything including how she gave her Dad the dragon horn, and what happened to the castle the instant her Dad and that thing in the mirror merged together. When she had finished, the only sound was the buffeting wind pushing at the window. Ezren stared at the floor.

When the King finally looked up, Claudia saw that his lips pulled tight against his teeth and there was a seething anger in his eyes. Claudia’s brain told her she had to run from the room but she squashed that fear down, taking a deep breath to suppress the anxiety. She tried to speak but her mouth was dry and the words only caught inside her throat. She recalled the image of her father chained to the wall in the dungeon and imagined herself meeting the same fate.

    Soren was the first to speak, “and that’s why, Claudia and I have decided that we will make it our mission to find our father and bring him to justice.”

King Ezren stood up from his chair, still refusing to look at Claudia. He took off his crown and placed it on the polished oak desk in front of the window. He stared out as purple bolts of lightning underlined swift clouds from the raging storm.

    “Claudia,” he said no longer trying to mask his young voice, “our two families have been close ever since I can remember and you and I have always been friends. But your lack of judgement was a betrayal to me and more importantly to this Kingdom. I know that Viren was your father but he committed unspeakable treason against everyone in the human realms. When he sent those smokey assassins to the other kingdoms they harmed innocent people. When the other Kingdoms discovered the assassins came from Katolis… it’s all I can do to stop a civil war in our own backyard. The only thing that has stopped the other Kingdoms from attacking us right now has been my oath to punish the man responsible.”

    Ezren looked at Claudia with his blue eyes shimmering with the onset of tears. Tears of betrayal and a broken heart, “…and you took all that away."

Claudia’s eyes stung with tears. She wished that Ezren was using his forced, regal voice to scold her not his everyday voice - the one they grew up with together. It made her feel utterly sick with guilt. King Ezren walked around the table, sitting at the chair behind the desk. He lit a candle and opened a drawer and pulled out a quill and ink. He frenetically scribed on the paper. With the candle’s flame, he melted his royal seal onto the corner of the paper and rolled it up.

   “Captain Soren, take this,” he said not looking up from his desk.

Soren stood up and took the scroll. He unfurled and scanned it. Claudia saw a shocked look on his face as her brother read through the decree. He re-rolled the scroll tucking it into his belt and saluted the King. Ezren didn’t bother to return the salute, turning around to look at the raging storm outside. Soren grasped his sister by the elbow and nudged her up. Claudia wanted the chance to explain herself but the desperate look on Soren’s face changed her mind.

They left the room, Soren leading by her elbow though not gently.

    “Soren, stop. What did that scroll say?” she pleaded, pawing at her brother's gauntleted hand holding her elbow.

    But Soren didn’t stop. They left the council chambers, down the still blustery stairs and into her room. Closing the door behind them.

    “Soren!” she cried, rubbing her arm, “what did the scroll say?”

     Soren held out his hands exhaling, “it said that you have one night to gather all your things and leave the castle.”

Claudia gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. She looked at her dresser, the walls of her room, the destroyed mirror in the corner. In actuality, she had planned for this contingency someday, being made to feel like a pariah as the last Dark Magic mage in Katolis. Though she had no idea it would be this soon. She had prepared a ready to go duffel bag filled with provisions and magical reagents just in case. She reached under her bed and grabbed the bag.

    “It also said you would be pardoned if you could bring back our father to meet his punishment… or execute his punishment yourself.”

    “Kay,” she said resigned to the task at hand.

    “Did you hear me, Clauds? The King want us to kill our own fath…”

    Claudia stomped one foot down on the floor before he could finish, accentuating the thud by thrusting her arms to the floor, “that  _monster_  is not our Dad. Never call him that again.”

    Soren held up his hands to placate his sister’s rage, “okay, okay it’s just, how are we going to do this?”

    “We?” she asked pointing a finger at herself, “no, no, no,  _I_ am the one banished here, Soren. You stay here and babysit the boy King.”

    Soren removed his Captain’s insignia broach from his shoulder epaulet, placing it on Claudia's dresser with a heavy, metallic clink. “Then I guess, I resign. I’m with you to the end, Claudia. Plus, who’s going to make me my hot cups of ‘hacky’ in the morning?”

Claudia closed her eyes, feeling the tears well up in her eyes again. She threw her arms around her brother, making his armour rattle with her grip. She let go and finished pulling some more items into her duffel bag before she swung it over her shoulder.

    “Ok, first things first, we gather everything from D... the monster's lab. Second, stop calling my hot brown morning potion ‘hacky’. And third...”

    The two siblings looked at each other and said in unison, "we go monster hunting."

**Ezren**

As soon as Viren's children had left his study, Ezren let the build-up of tears run down his cheeks. In that moment, he felt like the loneliest creature in the entire planet. After the tears dried away, he closed his eyes, trying to recall the bond he once had with the magical creature he had felt so close to long ago. But the connection wouldn't come, and he felt only anger.

Ezren placed the heavy crown back on his head and resigned himself to return to his Kingly duties. But his hand held fast before he could open the door latch. Instead he found comfort in simply staring at the pile of blank papers lying on the desk. Something inside him told him to return to his desk. As he did, he took off his crown, pulled out his quill and ink and began to write a letter to his brother. In that brief moment, everything in the world seemed to return to normal.  
  


**Rayla**

Rayla hated sleeping under bed covers when it was so hot outside. She tried putting one leg over the blanket to no relief. She tried rolling over to the other side of the bed. She even tried flipping over her pillows to get the cold side. Crickets chirping outside her open window told her she had slept away the entire day. A heavenly smell of something cooking filled her nose and made her stomach growl, she was famished. She hopped out of bed and changed into her everyday clothes.

She stepped through her bedroom door following the source of the smell. She caught sight of Zelmai bracing the banister as he carefully came up the stairs. As he reached the landing, Zelmai unfolded his cane and prodded the floor in front of him making gentle ticking sounds as he came down the hall.

    “Oh, hi uncle! Is Callum downstairs?”

    “Rayla!” his face lighting up at the sound of her voice. “Yes, I believe he’s preparing you a dinner. He called it uh, chicken noodle soup or some such.”

Rayla smiled in spite of herself and her mouth began to water in anticipation of the meal made by Callum just for her.

    “My dear, before you go downstairs, there’s something we need to discuss. In private, please.” Zelmai said, holding his hand towards Rayla room.

Rayla frowned almost making an excuse not to talk but she didn’t want to come across as rude in light of her uncle’s hospitality. She walked beside her uncle, bracing his elbow guiding him into her room. The sage, old elf closed the door behind him and Rayla felt a pang of guilt like she was about to receive a lecture. Zelmai sat on her bed and smiled uncomfortably.

     “I want to talk about the events that transpired last night…” he began.

    Rayla cut him off, “uncle, if this is about my use of bardic magic you have nothing to worry about, I think my barding days are over.”

    Her uncle cleared his throat, looking somewhat caught off guard, “yes, well, that’s part of what I want to talk to you about. You see, it has to do with the mental bridge I created between you and Callum.”

    “Okaaay,” Rayla said sitting down at the other end of her bed.

    “Whenever I bridge two minds, a piece of me unintentionally comes along for the ride. I get sense of what I call an 'aftertaste' for lack of a better word. Like a residue of memories, thoughts, and things that I can’t quite describe…”

Rayla felt the blood drain from her face. She felt like her uncle was couching some terrible discovery he made about Callum. She hardened herself, an affect she was quite used to doing these days.

    “Rayla,” her uncle continued, “there is more to Callum than he appears. Much more.”

Rayla’s heart began to beat hard. She’d been Callum’s friend for nearly two years, they’ve always been completely honest with each other - for the most part. There’s no way he could be anything other than the person she knew. 

    “But he’s just," she said, fumbling at what to say,  "he’s human and he’s my closest friend in the world. I trust him with my life. I refuse to believe he’d be anythin’ other than the Callum I know.”

Zelmai folded his fingers in his hands, he turned his face to the floor for a moment as if searching for the right words. When he turned his face back at Rayla, the long lines of age chiseled into his face seemed deeper. There is a connection between elves of Xadia regardless of their primal birth and with that one look, Rayla knew her uncle was speaking truthfully even if he couldn’t convey the words.

    “That’s the thing isn’t it,” he said, “how many humans do you know of who can wield primal magic?”

Rayla was young but she’d never personally heard of any human doing anything other than the abominations they had called Dark magic. Still, everything Callum has done to learn magic had been by his own hard efforts. It was one of the reasons why she…

    “Does this mean you’re going to stop training him?” she asked.

    “No!” The passion in her uncle’s response surprised her, “quite the contrary, training him is the best course of action for all of us right now. I will continue to make observations and once I can put my thoughts into words I will conference with the council of the magi.”

    “Oh,” Rayla was happy to hear that he was continuing his training, but if nothing has changed what was this conversation really about?

    “That brings me to my next point,” said Zelmai suddenly looking uncomfortable.

    ‘ _And there it is,_ ’ Rayla thought, rolling her eyes.

    “When I connected your two minds I felt incredibly strong emotions. Between Callum and you.”

    Rayla felt her cheeks begin to blush, “uncle, if this is ‘the talk’ you don’t have to worry yer’self, Runaan already…”

    Zelmai didn’t let her finish, “in order to master Sunfire magic, Callum must have total focus of mind. And I suspect he also won’t stop his training at Sun and Sky primal either. Nor should he.”

    “So!?” Rayla’s voice sounded a little too high pitched as it left her throat, “we’ve overcome larger battles than… stupid emotions! I don’t see how his feelings for me matter.”

    “Then I will explain exactly why it does matter. Callum is much, much older than any of my usual students. Children are too young to be distracted by complexities surrounding relationships."

    Rayla scoffed, bolting up and walking towards the door, “I'm leaving. This is none of your business. Don’t talk to me about this ever again.”

    “You love him? Let him go, gently of course. At least until he completes his training.”

    “Gah!” Rayla couldn’t suppress her frustration and she knew her voice carried throughout the house.

She let her bare feet stomp on the hallway floors and on each step down the stairs. She was fully committed to her foul mood. As soon as she got halfway down the stairs, Callum’s chicken noodle soup filled her sinuses. She took a deep breath, inhaling the savoury smells and smiled at the sight of Callum toiling in front of a pot of boiling, yellow broth.

He dropped some freshly minced cloves into the roiling mixture. The spicy aroma of the brew filled the kitchen with hints of carrots, celery and something else she couldn’t quite place. Callum had noticed Rayla’s hard footsteps and turned around to fix her a wide smile.

    “Morning, ha! Or should I say good evening? Have a seat and I’ll pour you a bowl of King Harrow’s famous cure-all soup.”

Rayla’s mouth watered and she already forget the awkward aura her uncle's conversation surrounded her. Besides, even if Callum had feelings for her there was no point in ever bringing it up, they were both seventeen, practically grown-ups! Callum ladled a scoop of piping hot soup into a bowl and brought it over to her using a tea-towel.

    “Careful, it’s hot,” he said placing his own bowl on the table across from Rayla.

She took a hearty scoop full of the soup with the yellow broth dribbling down her spoon. She could tell Callum put a lot of work into preparing this meal. She gave her spoon a gentle blow before taking in a mouth full. He was right, it really was a miracle cure-all for everything currently ailing Rayla.

    “What were you two arguing about upstairs? Everything okay?” he asked her after gulping down a few spoon fulls for himself.

    “Oh, we just had a disagreement about… family matters,” she said. She hated keeping information from Callum but she didn’t want to get into it with good food and company.

    “This is so good!” she said her eyes beaming.

    “I was worried because I couldn’t find any chicken in town but Zelmai said there’s a thick capped mushroom that grows under a prickle-thicket one town over that tastes just like it," said Callum and Rayla noticed he was absentmindedly rubbing at angry red scratches on both of his hands.

    “You went into another town to find chicken-flavoured mushrooms?” she said both impressed and a little worried that he might have been caught in his human form.

    “To be perfectly honest, I ended up travelling over two towns,” he answered, “you know how hard it is to get human vegetables in Xadia? But totally worth it, right?”

    “Totally!” Rayla said, taking in another spoonful from her bowl, “so, you walked through two towns and risked being discovered so you could make this amazin’ soup. Just for me?”

Callum looked up from his soup bowl. His cheeks glowing red, he gave her one of the most honest and earnest smiles she had ever seen him give. The smile that always made his lower eyelids turn into half moons and never failed to melt her heart. She felt the rush of blood fill her cheeks.

    ' _Oh, Xadia above AND below,'_  she thought to herself, ' _I really am in love with this big, dumb... wonderful human.'_

    Callum was still engaged in his own thoughts of learning magic tomorrow and carried the lion’s share of the conversation. He said, “what do you think Zelmai will teach me first? I was hoping it would be…”

    Rayla’s mind swam as her heart started beating heavily inside her chest,  _‘and if I feel this strongly about him, how does he feel about me?’_

    Callum continued talking, “…like what happened after our last real battle. Don’t you think that it would add more options to our mission plans?”

    “Uh-huh,” Rayla agreed not sure what she was agreeing with.

    “Exactly! So that’s why…”

    ‘Rayla, y _ou’re a Moonshadow Elf Assassin,'_  she thought, 'out  _of anyone, you know exactly the danger of what emotional distractions do to a mission. Do you really want to inflict that on the boy you… that you lo…'_

 _“_ …I guess I’m just excited is all, but I really want to know what you think?” Callum asked, staring ponderously into her eyes.

    Rayla shook herself from her own thoughts, “think about wha'?”

    “About learning how to heal, silly. It’s only what I’ve been talking about for the last minute,” Callum chuckled as he scooped another full spoon of soup into his mouth.

    ‘ _Fine._ _Then there’s nothing for it,_ ’ Rayla resigned herself to her own thoughts.

    “Callum, I love you,” she blurted out loud, immediately covering her mouth.

Callum spat the entire contents out of his mouth and all over the table. Wet, chicken-flavoured bits of mushroom bounced off Rayla’s cheek. He started coughing and gasped for air a few times.

    “Callum?” she said with a tone of worry.

    “Uhf! *gasp* sorry, but you just said… *cough*”, he grabbed the tea towel and wiped his mouth and coughed into it.

Rayla came around the table and sat on the bench next to Callum. She gave his back a few hard pats with her palm to help him breath again. She couldn’t help but chuckle at the moment but that feeling went away the instant Callum gave her a serious look. His diaphragm ceased convulsing but his face was still burning red.

    “You look hot,” Rayla said, her face turning beet red at her double entendre, “temperature-wise, I mean. Not that you aren’t… ugh! Let’s go outside and talk!”

She grabbed his hand and lead them from the heat in the kitchen to the cool evening air outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanted to give a quick shout out to @deh_peh for helping me workshop the plot for the last two chapters. Go and read their fic, The Promise. It's great!


	7. Ramblings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sneaky chapter insertion that takes place after Rayla blurts out her feelings towards Callum. This chapter provides more detail about what happened during that conversation.

**Callum**

The night was cool and quiet save for crickets who chirped their natural symphony. His teacher’s garden was normally filled with the exotic scent of flowers, but at night Callum could only smell the still waters from the pond and night-blooming succulents with the scent of freshly cut cucumber.

    Rayla lead Callum by the hand under the ash tree at the centre of the garden. Feeling a slight tremble in her hand, he welcomed moments of tenderness in Rayla, moments she did not often share. He was still parsing the words she made at the dinner table, ‘Callum’ she had said, ‘I love you.’ Did she really mean it? Did he feel the same way?

    Rayla sat on the soft ground nestled between the tree’s trunk and an ancient taproot. Callum sat next to her and they released their entwined hands. The bluish light of the half-moon cast dim shadows under the shade of the tree but Callum could see the strain on Rayla’s face. The bottoms of her eyes crinkled and her mouth was pursed tight. He knew his best friend by now to know he would be the one that had to break their communication stalemate.

    “So, um… where did that come from?”

    “What?” she asked, still looking down.

    “What you said just now, that you loved me… did you really mean that?”

    Rayla picked up a thick piece of grass and began peeling the blade apart. She looked up at Callum with wide eyes, opened her mouth, then sighed, looking away. Callum reached for her hand again but she pulled it away.

    “Callum, you need to tell me right now how serious you are about learnin’ magic,” she said, giving him a hard look.

    The young prince swallowed, unsure of what she was getting at, “very serious,” he replied. “But Rayla, not so serious as to jeopardize our friendship. I guess I’m really confused right now. Can you tell me what’s on your mind?”

    The young elf sighed looking away again and he could tell that she was still torn about something. He wondered if it had anything to do with the argument she had with her uncle earlier. Callum shook his head thinking if driving a wedge in their friendship was another game his teacher was playing. He scoffed so loud that for a brief moment the crickets stopped chirping.

    Rayla took his outburst personally and stood-up, her face bright red with embarrassment. “Forget it,” she said, “thank you for making me dinner.”

    Callum jumped up, grabbing her hand but this time she didn’t pull it away. She tugged lightly at his grasp but still faced towards the unbearably warm light of Zelmai's lodge.

    He was convinced now that she wasn’t acting on her own accord, “did Zelmai say something to you? Is this another game?”

    Rayla tugged her arm away from Callum’s light grip, letting her fingers caress the inside of his palm. She said the words “good night” so quietly Callum barely heard it. The young man stood there shocked and befuddled, wondering how they had gone from a pleasant dinner to this strange new tension. They had arguments before but this felt different somehow, like something in their relationship changed. He recalled the feeling of watching Rayla lying motionless on the same ground he now stood. How relieved he felt when he brought her back from the death's realm. How much love he had felt for her simply by holding her hand until she fell into the deep rhythm of sleep.

    At barely a whisper, he uttered the words, “I love you too, Rayla.”

    Rayla stopped walking. She turned, and Callum saw her chin was quivering and pulled tight as if holding back a sob. Her eyes were watery and red. Empathy grew in his heart and his throat tightened. Rayla walked back to him, holding out her arms as Callum mirrored her, then the best friends embraced. They held one another tightly listening to the random staccato-beat of crickets and the very distant sounds of Sunfire Elf music from the village square. Rayla maneuvered her horns away from his face and leaned her cheek against his chest.

    “Callum,” she said, as they swayed together, “Uncle Zelmai told me how how you feel about me. He also told me you are older than any of his students. Our feelin's will interfere with your training.”

    “Hang on,” said Callum, a bemused smile forming on his lips, “he said I was too old to be a student, but we're too young to control our emotions?”

    Rayla’s eyes looked off in the distance suddenly aware of the contradiction. “Something like that,” she said, “but bein’ a mage is who you are, I could never forgive myself if you stopped training because of me.”

    “But I won’t stop training.”

    “Yes, but what if it's like he says and our emotions interfere with yer learnin’.”

    “Then so what? I stop being a Sunfire mage and focus on the air primal. Look, forget magic for a second. What you and I have, after all that we’ve been through, _that_ is special and more valuable than magic.”

    Rayla sniffed, looking up at Callum’s face. In the last year he’d undergone a growth spurt and gained an inch on Rayla - not including her horns. They hugged often, even as friends and Rayla had to get used to accommodating her horns around his face after a couple of accidents.

    “I feel that way too,” she said. Rayla let her hands fall from the small of Callum’s back, reaching with her right hand to grab his and led them to the bench near the pond. “So, tell me sad prince, what makes our relationship so special?”

    Rayla had a way of turning the tables on him and teasing him like an older sibling might. In those instances, Callum relied on a joke or a bit of sarcasm but he knew her question required more tact.

    “Well,” he said sitting on the bench next to her, “we know how to make each other feel better without really saying anything. We’re always honest with each other.”

    “Except about how we really feel,” she said with a shy giggle. She wrapped his other hand around her torso, swung her legs up and over the bench arms and laid her head on his lap. “Can I be honest?”

    “Of course,” he said, blushing.

    She held up both of their hands, “I’ll never get used to your little pinkos.” She wiggled his little finger using the fourth digit of her hand.”

    “What’s wrong with my pinky?” he said, chuckling with mock indignation.

    “I mean, look at 'em all small and weird just stickin' out there alone when four fingers work just fine,” he laughed and they sighed together at the same time. A cool night breeze blew over the pond and nipped at his skin still prickly from sweat. Callum finally began to relax as the muddled words once swirling inside his mind released in catharsis. There were still words he didn’t know existed for how he truly felt for Rayla, but simply being here in this moment was all the prose he needed. His mind began to ruminate on when he started falling for his best friend.

    “Callum,” she asked, playing with his little finger, “when was the first time you started havin’… you know, stronger feelin’s for me?”

    “Funny you should ask, I was just thinking about that.”

    “Well?”

    He pondered the question for a moment and said, “I suppose if I really think back, it started the moment you hugged me after I nearly got Zym killed trying to learn primal magic. You remember that?”

    “Of course!” she exclaimed, “I thought you’d get yer’self killed, dummy.”

    “Heh, I thought you’d never forgive me for harming the little dragon prince but seeing that look of relief in your eyes not just for Zym but for me. It was the first time anyone outside my family looked that concerned for me and I guess I knew that it came from a place of love and then I just felt this sort of an itch that grew and grew as we got into Xadia and overcame more challenges together and I’m rambling aren’t I?”

    “I think it's cute how you ramble,” she said.

    “What about you?” he asked.

    “Oh, I never ramble.”

    He chuckled, “no, I mean, when did you start having feelings for me?”

    “I dunno fer sure, the same time as you I s’pose… I was kind of a jumble of feelings back then. Those first few weeks of our adventure were so intense and I was younger then too.”

    “We both were.”

    “Mm-hmm,” she whispered, “though, there was a moment…”

    She chewed at her lower lip squeezing her eyes shut. He knew whenever she hid her emotions like this he was going to have press her to open up. Callum still wasn’t sure if this was a common trait among Moonshadow elves or something unique to Rayla.

    “What moment?” he asked.

    Rayla lifted her head up and sat upright on the bench. She leaned forward, placing her elbows on her knees and said, “it was that time after you used dark magic to save the dragon and I from Claudia and Soren. Do you remember? You fell into some sorta’ fever dream...”

    “How could I forget? I had a breakthrough about the sky primal. You told me afterwards that I kept calling out for ‘help’. That must have been scary for you.”

    “It was terrifyin’!” she exclaimed, “I thought you were dyin’ before my eyes, Callum.”

    He recalled how he felt the previous night when he believed Rayla had died under the tree. The loss and anger and pain he had felt was overwhelming but at least he had Zelmai. Rayla was alone.

    “And I was just holding you in my arms and rocking you back and forth trying to get you to breathe again because you were the last person in the whole world I could trust and trusted me back and I thought if I lost you like that I would just die. That was when I realized how I felt for you.”

    Callum leaned over to Rayla, wrapped his arm around her shoulders and she leaned her head against his arm. Her soft, silvery hair tickled his neck.

    He whispered, “you never told me that part.”

    “I was scared of those feelings. They seemed to come outta nowhere. We had only known each other for what? A couple of weeks? And here I was falling for a boy. A human boy, oh my gosh, what Runaan would have said.”

    She chuckled, tucking her legs up and on to the bench. Callum leaned backwards on the armrest allowing her to rest the weight of her head into the crook of his arms. This was the most affectionate and comfortable they had ever been together and he wanted to pause time to take it in. He realized Rayla felt the same way as she sighed happily. He closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of the garden, the echoing cadence of festival drum beats and the soft exhalations of her breath.

    “Callum,” she said, playing with his little finger again, “h-have you ever… kissed a girl before?”

    His heart skipped a beat.

    “Um," he paused, wondering if his near kiss with Claudia counted. "No. Have you ever kissed anyone?”

    She slid her long fingers into the five fingers of his hand and smiled, recalling an old memory. “Once,” she said, “a lad I was crushin’ on during assassinary school. Oh, I used to tease him mercilessly. One day after lessons I told him I wanted to show him a new sword technique Runaan had taught me. I made him close his eyes and then I just went for it, kissed him full on the lips!”

    “Did he kiss you back?”

    Rayla grimaced, “he cried.”

    Callum couldn’t help but laugh. Rayla frowned at first but his laughter was infectious and they both joined in a fit of titters. She rolled over inside his embrace, her face still red from laughing but suddenly very serious. She looked into his green eyes.

    “Do you want to kiss me?” she asked.

    His breath caught inside his throat. The only thing he wanted to do in that moment was kiss Rayla. Everything about her was beautiful, her lilting moonshadow accent, her sparkling lilac irises, her delicate lips. He so badly wanted to lose himself in those lips but there was something pulling him back. Maybe it was what his Sunfire teacher had told Rayla, maybe it was this evening’s endless ascending and descending emotions. He made a promise to himself then and there that he would always be honest with Rayla about how he felt.

    “I really do… but, is it okay though if we wait?”

    There was an ever-so-slight tremble in her lower lip but she erased it with one warm smile. She placed a hand on his neck and caressed her thumb against his cheek.

    “Of course it’s okay,” she said, rolling over on his chest again and pulling his arm over her into an embrace, ”a lot’s happened tonight.”

    “I really like this, and I’m happy we were finally honest with each other,” he said wrapping his other arm around Rayla.

    “Took you long enough,” Rayla joked, then once more sighed in her merriment, “I like this too, let’s just stay like this and forget our troubles.”

    And for just one night they did. A human and elf reminisced about their adventures and how they felt for one another throughout it all. They talked until the festival music stopped and the moon dipped under the horizon. High above the garden, a galactic light show revealed its splendour of purple and blues stellar gasses. Infinite stars twinkled and some leapt into the atmosphere leaving dazzling trails of golden fire in their wake. And for just one night, Rayla and Callum felt like the only two people in the world.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warm shoutout to the incredibly talented porscheczar110 for their feedback on this chapter.


	8. Dear, Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Callum finally receives news from Katolis and pens a letter to his brother, the King.

Dear Ezren,

I'll admit it. The last thing I expected to see this morning was a falcon swooping down and landing on my shoulder, especially with your letter attached to its talon! It hasn't left my shoulder since or stop squawking for that matter, until I starting penning my reply. I don't have to say it but it was so amazing to hear from you! To answer your first question, I am doing great and Rayla is too, though I need to state right now that there's been an ever-so-slight change to our group dynamic... for better or worse. But I'll get to that in a minute.

My apprenticeship going well, just last week I was able to cast my very first sun primal spell: a healing spell! It's been so incredible to use magic that helps instead of harms creatures. For one brief moment, I create a spark that unites hearts, minds and souls together. It's not easy, for the spell to work I have to take on their pain and the sympathetic response in my body can be overwhelming. But once the spell is complete what's left behind for me is this beautiful aftertaste of pure empathy. Ez, I wish everyone in the world could experience this feeling at least once in their life; there would be no more wars I can tell you that.

I also wanted to tell you about my Sunfire master, Zelmai. He's the most grounded and human-like elf I have ever met - next to Rayla of course! At first I thought he was a bit of a tyrant, after he made me carry around a heavy rock for weeks! He made me call it "Mr Sunny: the fake primal stone", and though I didn't understand his reasoning at first, it made me understand there was much more to magic than dusty tomes and research. I think you'd really like him and I hope one day the two of you will get a chance to meet. He's been more than a mentor and more like an older brother to me. Everyone should have an older brother, right?

Ez, I know that you are King but as your big brother, I'm concerned about all the anger you say you've been feeling lately. I cannot even imagine all the responsibility on your shoulders and I wish on all the stars above that I could be there to help shoulder some of that burden for you. I think you need to delegate more of your duties. Promote people that you trust and then make what they do a part of their name. As Human Rayla likes to say, "humans love job titles!"

Alright so as you can no doubt tell from all the dashed out sentences that I've been struggling to find the right words to describe how I feel about Claudia's banishment from Castle Katolis but I can't so I'm just going to write from the heart. Honestly, I haven't been able to trust her since she tried to capture us nearly two years ago when we left the Moon Nexus. But I'm also torn because both her and Soren have been close to us since I can remember not to mention the fact they also lost their mother and now their own father too. Let's just put it all out there, all four of us have the same tragic story. And yet, Claudia has not been the same person ever since she became a Dark Magic mage. There is something about that form of magic that twists and distorts the people who use it. If I have learned one thing about being a mage it's that all spells have a cost, and humans have made no attempts at reconciling the true cost of Dark Magic.

From all the news you tell me, what truly scares me is not only learning that Lord Viren escaped but how he escaped. First, is everyone in the castle doing okay? Second, do we know anything at all about that creature in the Dragon King's mirror that Claudia described? 

Oh! You know what? I'm in the land of the elves right now! There has to be someone here who can tell us something. Tell you what, I'm going to take a break from this letter to talk to Rayla and Zelmai... don't go anywhere!

Okay I'm back, did you miss me? haha! (If you think I'm turning into Dad, don't tell me). Anyway, as soon your falcon friend let me stop writing for a minute, I went downstairs and talked to Rayla and Zelmai about the mirror and I'm afraid neither of them can provide any insight other than what we already know. But! There is a certain Sunfire elf uh, let's just say "friend" of ours who's father was actually there the night of Dragon King's assassination. Our "friend" might be the only person with direct knowledge about that mirror. First thing tomorrow morning, Rayla and I are going to have a serious sit down meeting with... our "friend". So, make sure you write back soon so I can keep you updated, okay?

Okay, so that brings me back to my first point, about the changes and challenges to our party's dynamic. I suppose I should start from the beginning...

I should say that I'm not the only one learning magic these days. Would you believe it if I told you that Rayla has been learning how to become a bard!? No, not the singing and dancing tavern bards we have back home. Sunfire Bardic magic is a little hard to explain in words. The best way to describe it is that it combines martial sword skills with a magical instrument which when combined creates songs that lets anyone people who hears it do amazing things! One of her songs gave me the speed and strength to climb this massive tree. But her song also negatively affected her somehow and so when I climbed down the tree I saw her lying motionless on the ground and I... Ezren, for a moment I thought Rayla had died! Zelmai and I had to work together all night to retrieve Rayla's soul from the spirit world.

Now, before you worry, yes, Rayla is doing fine but it kinda messed with her head a bit and so I spent the next day cooking up Dad's cure-all chicken noodle soup. We were eating it together and just talking when suddenly, out of the blue, Rayla told me how she really felt about me. Yeah, you don't have to worry I was totally cool about it... totally. But I was blindsided and she suggested we go outside and talk about it.

I think I told you we'd have a heart to heart discussion about "sandwiches" some day, and this is going to be the start of that discussion. You already know that Rayla means a lot to me and when you aren't in my thoughts I'm always thinking about her. The evening she confessed her feelings, we stayed up all night in Zelmai's garden, sitting on a bench, holding hands and reminiscing about all our adventures and how we felt about each other the whole time. How it was our unstated love that got us through incredible hardships. We talked until the orange haze of sunrise harkened the birds to sing their morning songs, and then we just said nothing. I don't even remember falling asleep but Zelmai woke us up and oh boy, he didn't look happy.

Now I know by now you are probably sticking out your tongue out and making a "blech!" sound. I would too, if I were your age and in your shoes. But the truth is, it felt amazing to get all that pent up self-doubt and emotion out into the open. I'm just happy it worked out that we both felt the same way about each other. And you wanna know the reason why Zelmai looked mad? He told Rayla that I was too old to be a student and also too young to keep my emotions in check. Can you believe that? Sometimes the people we call sages don't even realize the contradictions in what they say. Too often they paint us young people as too immature, but in my experience the reverse is often true. What I want you to take away from my experience is this: don't let anyone try to use their "wisdom" to bully you into taking a position you know in your heart is wrong.

In summary, Rayla and I aren't going to let anyone dictate the terms of our relationship and we are just going to let things grow organically, as nature intends it.

I love you, Ezren. Always remember to hold on to your core values so that when you look back, you can always say you did the right thing in the moment. I will see you soon someday.

Love,

your brother always,

Callum.

**Callum**

Callum gave his letter a once over, making sure he didn't forget to include anything. The falcon sat perched upon his shoulder the entire time, gazing at his work. He rolled up the heavy paper and tied it up with a piece of string. He removed a block of sealing wax from his desk drawer and snapped his fingers a few times, trying to incant the fire cantrip Zelmai had taught him. He couldn't make the flame between his fingers ignite and - frustrated - he simply melted the wax using the candle on his desk. He dribbled the red wax along the edge of the rolled paper, ensuring it would seal and not come apart during the long flight back. The falcon finally jumped off of his shoulder and Callum felt a sense of relief as blood flowed where the heavy creature once sat. The falcon lifted one of its talons and Callum tied the string around its leg using a firm knot. The falcon canted its head to the side then turned towards the open window beside the desk. With a quick bow it launched itself out the window and disappeared into the night sky.

    There was a soft knock on Callum's door. Rayla poked her head through the half-opened door, "you finally get rid of that dumb bird?" Rayla asked.

    "Oof! Finally," said Callum rubbing his shoulder and rotating his arm to get some more blood flowing, "but it was so worth it to be able to write back to King Ezren."

   Rayla's bare feet made soft patting sounds on the floor as she tip-toed next to his desk. She placed her palms on Callum's shoulder, working the knot out of the bird perch using both of her thumbs.

    "And you're absolutely sure you're up for our trip tomorrow?" she asked, continuing an earlier conversation with a hint of nervousness in her voice.

    "Absolutely," he replied, "I finally get to be Elven-Callum!"

    Rayla rolled her eyes and plopped down on the bed next Callum's desk. She gave him a wry smile and said, "just don't oversell it, okay? Promise you'll let me do all the talkin'."

    "Me!" said Callym in a haughty, high-pitched voice, "overact you say? Why I never!?"

They both started laughing together and Rayla gave him a playful shove. She leaned forward on the edge of his bed and gave his forehead a light kiss.

    "I'm going to bed and you should too. Okay?" she said, standing up.

    "Okay. Goodnight, Rayla," he replied with a warm smile.

    "G'night," she said softly closing her eyes with a slight blush before she tip toed out of his room, closing the door behind her.

    Callum touched the spot on his forehead where Rayla kissed him and the joy he felt in that moment made his heart leap. He snuffed out the candle and began to pull up his bed sheets before pausing. He leaned towards the unlit candle and snapped his two fingers, creating a tiny flame between them. He lit the candle using his fingers and smiled, watching the tiny ember wave on the candle wick for a moment before blowing it out.


	9. Grim Tourism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claudia and Soren make a horrifying discovery

After five days in the wilderness, the rain finally let up. Claudia shivered in the improvised shelter as she prepared the ingredients for her tracking spell. In the few hours the boy-King so graciously granted her prior to banishment, she searched for ingredients that could be used to track her Dad... No, not her Dad anymore, the monster that became her Dad. She managed to find her father's crusty goatee comb. She plucked a few black strands from the tiny comb and dropped them into her mortar along with other ingredients for her spell. She couldn't move her head in time before a tickle hit her nose.

    "Ah-CHOO!" she sneezed into her work, scattering the ingredients throughout the shelter. Claudia yelled in frustration, wiping away the mucus from her nose.

    "Gesundheit!" said Soren, walking up the bluff face and into their shelter carrying a deer carcass on his shoulders. "Still fighting that cold, huh?"

    "Ugh! Shuddup! I need to concentrate and I just wasted what little strands of Dad's hair that we've got left," she said as she crawled on the hard pack dirt in their cave. She managed to recover some of the hair strands and brushed off bits of debris off tiny bristles.

    Soren lifted the animal carcass off of his back and went about placing some wood on the fire. "I thought you said the tracking spell would give us away?" he asked.

    Claudia scraped the ingredients into her mortar with the edge of her palm. She wasn't purposely ignoring Soren but she had little patience battling her cold, emotions and answering Soren's dumb questions. She ground up the ingredients using her pestle, careful this time to turn her head away lest another sneeze catches her unawares.

    Soren brought the fire up to a roaring flame, blanketing out their view of the surrounding wilderness and bathing them both in a warm, orange radiance. He began cleaning the animal and Claudia briefly watched him work, both impressed and feeling a little guilty at her early abrasiveness. She placed the prepared spell components into a glass decanter and sealed it with a cork topper. She marvelled as the fluttering lights inside the jar danced with a ghostly glow.

    She sat next to Soren, exhaling beside the calming aura of her brother's carefree existence. She was sometimes jealous of her brother's ability to let the worries of the world wash over him like water off of a duckswan's back, "sorry, Sor-Sor," she said. "Yes, the spell will give away our position but what other option do we have? The trail went cold days ago."

    If Soren was upset at his sister's earlier remarks, he didn't show it. He simply shrugged and continued preparing their dinner. He flayed the creature and strapped it to an improvised spit which he then maneuvered above the roaring flames. They both sat in silence, admiring the flames and the welcoming smell of sizzling fat.

    "Well!" said Soren standing up and dusting off his armour, "this is going to take a while so why don't we do your whole magic thingy?"

    Claudia smiled and stood up. She grabbed the glass jar and mortar and lead the way towards the trail that they had broken-in earlier that day. The trail lead from the cut in the hill which made their camp and up to the very top of the bluff. The hill top was clear of trees, giving them an ample view of the surrounding landscape stretching off into the infinite horizon.

    Claudia unfolded a map of the human kingdoms and placed it on a flat rock jutting up from the hilltop. She placed the mortar and glowing jar on top of the map to stop the wind from blowing it away. She then placed a few more strands of her father's hair into the stone mortar and with a flint, she lit the precious tiny link bit of her father on fire, letting the grey smoke rise. She focused her energies into the tiny plume of smoke, breathing in the sickly sweet plume. Claudia popped open the lid and exhaled the smoke into the jar, then with her focused energies, she charged the components releasing a tiny fragment of her soul as the spell catalyst.

    " _Rehtaf retsnom ym dnif!_ " she incanted, flinging the contents out of the jar into the sky.

    At first the lights only swirled around Claudia's head, appearing unsure which direction it should take. Then the ghostly lights seemed to be caught up by a gust of wind, splitting them in two directions. Claudia thought she had messed up the spell, cursing herself for not taking enough precautions but then two brilliant beams of lights launched themselves in two different directions. One thin beam of light went straight into the sky whereas the other thicker beam arced gracefully before dipping into the north west and disappearing over the horizon.

    Soren looked at her sister then up at the beam heading straight up into the sky. "Uh, I think you broke it," he said, pointing up.

    Claudia folded her arms and frowned. How could the spell indicate their father was in two places? Was this even possible? Soren looked over the map and plotted the course the thicker, north-western pointing beam had taken.

    "The other beam looks like it's headed right for the Tamiya mudflats. Why would Dad head there, it's a desolate hellscape?"

    "Wasn't like, a massive battle fought there once?" asked Claudia.

    "Oh yeah! I remember learning about that at knight school. It was the sight of the last battle between all the human kingdoms. Lots of soldiers died, no real winners. Pretty brutal stuff."

    Claudia trembled. She scrambled to gather her spell making tools and sprinted towards the trail.

    Soren ran after her. Asking what was going on but Claudia's mind was too busy racing at all the dark probabilities stirring in her mind. There was only one possible reason for a monster with her Dad's power to be at a battlefield graveyard.

    Soren caught up to her sister, grasping on to her shoulder, "Clauds, whatever it is you think our... Dad monster is doing it can wait until we've eaten and rested."

    "Soren," she began to lose her breath, anxiety building inside her chest threatening to overwhelm her. "Why do you think that monster is at the largest graveyard in human history?"

    "He's super into battlefield tourism?" said Soren, still unsure.

    "This is serious, Soren!"

    "I don't know! You're the smart one," he said throwing up his arms and looking downcast.

    "Urrrg!" she cried in frustration. "If you were a diabolical monster bent on the most destruction possible, what would be your first step?"

    Soren didn't hesitate, "raise an army."

    "Exactly!" said Claudia, holding out her hands and expecting Soren to clue in.

    Soren rolled his eyes, clearly tired of his sister's games. He turned on his heel and went back to tend to their dinner now blackened with char. He turned it over on the spit and the fire hissed as the juices poured out from the meat. Claudia felt her stomach growl at the savoury smells from the cooking meat.

    "It's almost ready," he said sullenly, using his flaying knife to cut off a charred bit of flesh exposed to the fire. He scraped off the burnt bits and held out a piece of the moist, cooked meat to her sister, not looking.

    Claudia sat down beside her brother, frustrated but also grateful for his company. She took the piece of meat and gingerly took a few bites, sucking in air to cool the piping hot meat in her mouth. It was tender enough though gamey with the flavour of grass. They ate in silence as Claudia stared at the thin beam soaring straight into the sky until it faded into the night. Soren was right, whatever emergency was in store for them, it could wait until the morning to deal with.

*** * * ***

They left their camp on sunrise riding horses, following a worn trade route that wound through the hilly countryside. Every so often, a warm gust of wind blew the fragrant smells of early summer, purple lilacs and yellow daisies dotted the trail. They passed few people making their way towards Katolis, but most people seemed to be heading north to Duren where jobs were plentiful and there was less talk of war. The siblings spent their overnights at inns, using what little funds their father left to them from his estate. The King had recouped most of Lord Viren's money in reparations, one more thing to add to Claudia's anger at their former friend.

    By the third day of their travels, they came to the Tamiya mudflats. The siblings dismounted their horses, lashing their horses' reins together and tying them to a tree. The pair then prepared for battle. Claudia prepped a number of offensive spells into glass jars, affixing them on to her belt within easy reach. Soren sharpened the blade of his longsword as well other sharp instruments decked around his armour. The two rehearsed their plan of attack and stepped out of the little growth of trees, over a mound and onto the muddy flats.

    The ancient field of battle was a sticky mire of white mud. A hazy fog drifted a few feet above the ground obscuring their view. The reek was overwhelming. It was musty and cloyingly sweet but raised the bile in both of their stomachs. The pair walked slowly onto the field, their boots made slurping sounds as the mud tried to pull them down into the mire. Everywhere they looked they found shallow pits containing rusted bits of metal and torn cloth of varying colours. Claudia recognized some of the bits of cloth displaying the coats of arms and banners of the various armies that once fought here; Del Bar, Neolandia, Evenere, Duren and Katolis. All were represented in the fluttering bits of cloth in the graves of the dead.

    Struggling against the sucking mud, Claudia came up to one of the exposed graves. Abruptly, two vultures burst up from the pit screaming angrily at the disruption of their carrion-work. Once her heart stopped pounding, she peered into the pit, grimacing in preparation of a grisly scene. But the pit was practically empty save for loose bits of clothes and bone fragments. Certainly not worthy of a soldier-sized pit. She found all of the other graves had seemingly been robbed of their occupants.

    Soren walked up to Claudia, sheathing his sword, "there's no sign of D... I mean, our target. But what's up with all the open pits?"

   Claudia's worst fears were confirmed, sending a chill down her spine, "Soren, our monster Father has his army."

 


	10. The Date

As much as he enjoyed the expansive beauty of his Sunfire instructor's estate, Callum was itching to get out and interact with the Sunfire village. It would require a high cost - the transformation into an elf he was told was a painful one.

    Zelmai had lent Callum a set of Sunfire Elf attire that belonged to one of his sons. Sunfire civilians enjoyed bright, airy clothing and the outfit he loaned him was no exception. Grey pants tied-up with a red cloth belt fastened with a golden metallic buckle. A deep red undershirt had many hidden pockets, and a crimson tabard with silver embroidered accents. Callum thought he looked pretty sharp if he had to say so himself.

    Satisfied he had put his new clothing on properly, he bolted out his bedroom but in his excitement, he didn't see Rayla barreling down the hallway. His bony hip bounced off the taut bundle of muscles in her leg and the spry elf hopped backwards, shouting "hyup!" while holding her hands up in an exaggerated attack pose. Callum leapt backwards playfully mocking her pose by moving his hands in circles while extending two fingers in the air. She easily ducked under his jovial defensive posture and grabbed his hands. They both laughed - Callum more so - and he thought it was great to see her in such a playful mood again.

    "Look at you!" she said with a giggle. She leaned in closer to adjust the tabard he had mistakenly tucked into his belt and he felt the warmth of her floral scented breath on his cheek. She stepped back to admire his outfit.

    She also wore new Sunfire attire and as she caught his prolonged gaze, she twirled around on the tip of her toe, letting the loose ends of her tunic billow outwards. She wore a pair white sandals laced with thin, red leather straps that wove around her calves, a pair of cream coloured pants and an orange knitted cuirass with brown leather webbing to hold her weapons. Her silver-white hair was pulled back into braided ponytail.

    "You like it?" she asked.

    The only words he could mumble together were, "your clothes so pretty."

    "I can't believe I get to go on a real human date!" she said. Rayla was a student of human culture and often asked Callum uncomfortable questions about various courtship rituals. Since their recent change in relationship status, Callum had promised he would show her one of their rituals firsthand.

    She clapped her hands together and said, "race ya' to breakfast!"

    They playfully pushed and elbowed all the way down the stairs giggling like school kids at recess. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, they saw Zelmai's jowly face twisted into a knot of disapproval. He growled something under his breath and Rayla and Callum resumed a more reserved demeanour.

    "Good morning, Zelmai," said Callum, nodding at the sage old elf as he helped himself to some piping hot vegetables and sweet breads. They both had promised to reduce their displays of affection in front of Zelmai as they knew their new relationship was bothering the old codger.

    "You still want to go through with the transformation do ya?" Zelmai grumbled looking up at Callum through bushy white eyebrows. The young mage glanced at Rayla to get a sense of what she was thinking but if she was concerned, she didn't show it. She was too busy picking out all the green bits of coriander from her fried mushroom caps.

    "Absolutely," he said, "ever since I came to Xadia I've been dying to know what it's like to be an elf."

    "Fine," Zelmai said, clearing his throat with a phlegmy cough. "But you should know that with all transformation spells, dying is a real possibility. You've been getting better at that healing spell so keep channeling it the entire time I perform my spell. It'll take focus on your part but I think you're ready. Also the spell requires direct sunlight to power it the entire time otherwise it'll draw power from you. Clear so far?"

    Callum nodded, "channel heal, stay in sunlight. Got it."

    "Good. Remember, if you finish casting the heal spell on yourself, you'll undo my work. Simply inscribe the rune and don't say draconic words to complete the spell. You'll be in the middle of casting a heal spell the whole time you are in disguise. As I said, it's going to take a lot of focus. You still want to go through with this?"

    "Of course he does, uncle," Rayla butted in, with a cheery voice, "he's taking me out on our first date!"

    "Date?" Zelmai said, as if trying out the word for the first time, "and what exactly is a date?"

    Callum was looking at Rayla for a little help but she left him hanging with a smirking grin. He sighed knowing this would be the second time he had to explain esoteric human culture.

    He cleared his throat, "a date is when a person who likes another person asks that person to go with them out to a place where they can spend time alone together."

    "So, a date is a place?" Zelmai said curling his upper lip.

    "It can be, but not necessarily," the young mage tried to explain, "a date can be a place or it can just be doing things together, like cooking dinner."

    Rayla's eyes lit up, "you never mentioned that! We've been on lots of dates then."

    "Yes, but we weren't officially dating back then."

    "Okay, I'm confused again," she said.

    "Rayla I'm starting to get it," Zelmai said, "humans need show off their betrothal mates to others in public in order to ward off competitors."

    "No!" Callum said with frustration.

    "Okay, uncle. That's enough Callum torture for one mornin'. Let's just get to it then?"

    They had finished their breakfast and made their way into the backyard when Rayla stopped Callum.

    "I'm not actually confused. Yer' ma' boyfriend and I'm yer' elf... girl...friend," her cheeks glowed red as she leaned in to give his cheek a delicate kiss. Their second kiss, not that Callum was counting or anything.

    Callum would later describe his human to elf transformation in one word: torturous. The first step was to remove his index fingers, which he had thought would be the worst step but after casting his transformation spell, Zelmai simply twisted each finger off with a loud pop. Next, the Sunfire wizard pulled out two keratinous horns from the top of his head. He molded each boney horn into elf-like shape and detailed them with fine lines as green as verdigris. Callum discovered that any minor distraction from his healing spell incantation felt like someone jabbed painful spikes of ice behind his eyes. Callum cringed as the Sunfire master moved his wrinkled hands along both sides of his head, pulling at the corners of his ears and reshaping the flesh like a baker kneading dough. While Zelmai worked, beads of sweat dripped down Callum's forehead.

    Once Zelmai had completed his spell, Callum found his healing spell wasn't as difficult to channel. The sensation inside his mind was like trying to force open a gigantic wooden doorway inside Katolis castle against invisible air pressure. Indescribable mental energies pushed and pulled negative magical pressures inside his mind, keeping him from maintain the healing spell. Once it magical equilibrium was reached, all he had to do was picture himself standing in the middle of the door maintaining the balance. By imagining it this way he could focus on important matters, like his date with Rayla.

    When Zelmai had at last finished he stood back, "Rayla you'll have to tell me how it looks."

    Rayla couldn't help but laugh, "he looks positively adorable. I'm going to have to fight off all the Sunfire elf girls if I'm not careful." 

    Callum blushed.

    Zelmai grumbled, "just remember what I said, the spell only works while the sun is out. As soon as the sun goes down..."

    "...I turn into a pumpkin!" Callum tried to joke.

    The only real elves in the garden gave Callum a blank stare. Nonplussed, Zelmai said, "no, your horns will fall off, your finger grows back and you turn back into an ugly human again."

    Callum made an awkward shrug and Rayla bounded up to him, wrapping an arm around the small of his back. She said, "well, I think he'll be back to cute as a button human self."

    Zelmai mumbled something about lacking focus then turned away to tend to his garden.

    Rayla tried to give Callum an encouraging hug around the waist. He was usually so self-assured and it made her sad seeing him looking rather awkward. Once they were out of ear-shot of Zelmai, she pressed him on it.

    "You were so excited about playin' 'Elven-Callum' last night. What's eatin' you now?" she asked.

    "It's dumb. Dumb human emotion stuff. Trust me, I'll get over it," he replied, not meeting her gaze.

    She placed her fingers on his chin, gently turning his face to look at her. Her stomach made an involuntary tingle of butterflies at the sight of his angular elven looks but she preferred the curving gracefulness of his human face.

    "Just tell me," she said, "we promised we wouldn't let our relationship get in the way of our mission."

    "Ok," he sighed, "I guess I'm just feeling a little self-conscious that you'd prefer this version of me over my human one. Okay I said it. It's dumb, right?"

    "That  _is_  dumb," she said, laughing, "but I'd love you even if you were turned into a glowtoad or a bird." Then she surprised him by tickling his ribs, making him keel over in fits of laughter. She grabbed his hand and the two ran into the centre of town.

    Hand-in-hand walked one elf and one ersatz elf. The shiny, black cobblestone path guided them from the verdant courtyard of Zelmai's estate into the rolling, red soiled countryside of the Sunfire village. For the first time Callum could see the quaint majesty of the town by daylight. Crimson rocks jutted from the desert landscape like pillars of fire frozen in time. Brown sandstone buildings with gently curving roofs looked like the billowing hats artisans would wear in Del Bar. Rising from the bottom of the valley was a massive ash tree knotted with thick branches shading the bustling town centre. The tangy fragrance of red blossomed irises intermingled with blue and pink exotic flowers grew among ferns that tickled their legs as they walked down the path. Young children darted past them in a blur of thin, orange fabrics and Rayla mentioned she had recognized some of the children from her Bard classes.

    As they walked, Rayla and Callum excitedly discussed their action plan like school kids discussing their summer break. They discussed every detail including what hand signals they would use, their tone of voice and even code words. They had been adventuring together for so long that most of their plan was redundant but Callum loved to strategize and Rayla loved being prepared.

    They had stopped holding hands once they had arrived at the gate surrounding the bard training grounds at the centre of town.

    "Remember, let me do most of the talking," said Rayla, giving Callum a once over to make sure he didn't look too out of place in Zelmai's loaned clothes. Callum nodded and they entered the yard side by side, no longer holding hands. It would be the first time Callum had experienced bard magic on such a scale, though it was not so much a shock to hear the music so much as experiencing the magical air vibrations as the students shouted out poses.

    "Baaards... one... TWO," an instructor voice would call out and the children would shout back in unison. "Three... four... Hut!"

    They sat together on a bench un-shaded by the leafy branches of the ash tree. Rayla explained what each of the poses symbolized in Bardic lore. Most moves honoured - and were so named - after ancient battles in Sunfire elf history. The Bardic martial art was a defensive art form and many moves were designed to parry an enemy's blow while the bard empowered her offensive allies to attack. Callum soaked it all in, fascinated at learned the magic link between music and the Sunfire Arcanum but what he found most interesting was feeling the emotive power from each bard. Whenever Callum focused on the individual voices he could make out the emotions they were thinking like, "my arms hurt" or "I really need to pee." Callum found it endearing.

    Rayla explained that the elf women who stood on benches around the trunk of the tree called out each song while keeping the children in check. There was also a drummer who kept time. He had noticed that some children held out different instruments and some who had sung a guttural chant that came from the back of their throats. Callum wondered if the bards he heard back in Katolis could be taught how to use magic.

    "Do you sing, Rayla?" he asked.

    "Oh, no no no. I cannot sing even if my life depended on it," she demurred, then she turned to look at Callum. "What about you? Can you sing?"

    He blushed, "I guess, I could hold a tune if I had to."

    "Sing me somethin'."

    "Wha... here? Now?"

    "Why not? This place is as good as any," Rayla gently tugged at the light hair covering his forearms.

    Callum cleared his throat and sand the song his mother used to sing about the days before the Xadian schism; an era when ancient women and men lived among creatures of magic. It was a tragic lament of how humankind had everything they could possibly desire: food, happiness and peace in boundless abundance. But such is the tragedy of human nature as marked by such songs when humans threw it all away in their insatiable thirst for power. Banished forever from the bountiful garden. When he had finished my song, Rayla's big, turquoise irises glittered in the mid-day sun. She closed her eyes, blinking away tears, then leaned her head on his shoulder as they watched the rest of the morning classes in silence.

    They watched Sunfire elves arranged by age and skill performing their drills. As the bards completed each drill, the air shimmered with magic and even from this distance, Rayla could feel the empowering effects of their songs. In the centre of the throng and leading one of the younger batches of children was their mark, Nivin. He wore the red loose-fitting training garb that Rayla had become familiar with since arriving in Sunfire territory. He went through a bardic routine, highlighting the move with snappy precision. He walked between each student to adjust their limbs ensuring they make every move perfectly. They continued to watch until the head bard, who Rayla knew as Nivin's mother, announced the end of morning classes. This was their opportunity to meet with their target.

    Nivin smiled as soon as he saw Rayla and Callum approach, waving them over to their assembled group. When they finally got close enough, the children shouted, "hi Rayla!" in unison and swarmed her. A couple of the girls giggled and whispered at the sight of elven-Callum. One of the girls beckoned Rayla to lean over so she could whisper something into her ear, grinning as she stared dreamily at Callum.

    "Yes, little ones. This is my betrothed I told you about," she looked back at Callum and give him a wink.

    "Ooooooo!" sung all the little girls in unison. The boys stuck out their tongues and pretended to gag.

    Nivin made a shoving motion, herding the little Sunfire elves away from Rayla and Callum. "Ok, you heard the headmaster, run along you troublemaking troubadours!"

    When the last of the children ran back to their awaiting parents, Nivin turned to Rayla and said, "it's been weeks since we saw you last, we were beginning to think you abandoned your training." He looked over at Callum, his smile never fading, "and we finally get to meet your betrothed, under better circumstances this time, no doubt. Well met, err, um..?"

    "Fendyn," replied Callum extending his hand using the Sunfire form of greeting Zelmai taught him, "well met indeed."

    "Indeed!" said Nivin, accepting Callum's handgrip and raising an eyebrow, "and so nice to see our culture respected as well." He let go of Callum's hand and grabbed a towel from a stone bench along a bundle of dried, exotic fruit. He opened it up and offered it to the couple, "dried sunfig?"

    Rayla held up one hand, "no, but thank you. We are wondering if now might a good time to talk. About the Dragon guard."

    Nivin's smile faded from his face and his mouth slacked. Rayla recalled him having a similar reaction the last time she brought the subject up and it was clear that the topic affected him deeply. But Nivin didn't outright refuse this time, perhaps by bringing Callum with her it symbolized the importance to Rayla. In either case Rayla felt she had to press him.

    "Please, Nivin. It's a matter of grave importance, we believe that an evil has been set loose in the world and..."

    Nivin raised his forefinger to his mouth and pursed his lips. He leaned in to Rayla and said in a low voice, "the evil you speak of, I felt it too but let us not discuss it where curious little ears might misunderstand. Okay?"

    They nodded.

    "Mother!" Nivin shouted at the older woman near the tree, "I am going to the inn. I shan't return for afternoon classes."

    Nivin's mother gave Callum and Rayla a dagger-like stare, shaking her head.

* * * *

Nivin's family inn was not far from the centre of town. The two-story building looked as though it had been intricately carved into the wood of a gigantic felled tree. A breeze made the wooden sign affixed to the front of the inn squeak with protest on rusty hinges. The sign had the faded image of a bard's lute. They entered the inn but Rayla asked if they could move their conversation somewhere outdoors as she noticed Callum begin to perspire maintaining the transformation spell. Nivin lead them through the building to an inner courtyard and asked one of the workers to fetch moon berry juice as well as whatever food was left over from morning table service.

    They sat outdoors under bright sunlight on comfortable, circular couches surrounding a red-stone table. They made small talk at first, discussing the inn's history and how it was only occasionally used for visiting guests of the school. Nivin was affable, humorous and did everything he could to steer the conversation away from awkward discussion. It seemed Callum had a natural bond with the Sunfire elf, discussing Sunfire history and magic - though he avoided any mention of magical training with Zelmai.

    Rayla noticed the sun lower on the horizon and decided to get to the point. "Nivin, you said you felt something evil? We know for a fact that evil had been set loose into the world."

    Callum added, "it has something to do with a magical mirror that had once belonged to the Dragon King."

    Nivin looked like he was caught off guard, "how did you?!" he paused, swallowing hard. He leaned in and glaring at Callum he said in a raspy whisper, "how did you find out about that artifact? It was stolen from us!"

    Rayla didn't let Callum answer, "I told you before how I live with the shame in knowin' my parents ran away from the Dragon Guard. But your Dad was there too. Please, if you can tell us anything at all."

    Nivin leaned back into a couch pillow, turning his head away, "I already told you, my father abandoned our family after the battle with the humans because he was too ashamed of his failure."

    Callum and Rayla exchanged knowing glances. As they had suspected, Nivin was hiding something and they would have to be the first to open up.

    "I believe I found my parents," she said, unable to hide a tremor in her voice, "a month ago, in the spirit world. I was using bard magic to help Fendyn with his err... with his horticulture work."

    Callum glanced at her with a slight frown and she shrugged back. Nivin still stared off into the distance.

    "Anyway, the details of how I got there aren't important right now, what's important is that my parents' spirits are trapped in that realm and we found other spirits in there..." the moment she mentioned the other spirits, the dark-skinned Sunfire elf turned his attention back to Rayla. His eyes darted between Rayla and Callum.

    "Okay?" said Nivin.

    "Okay, so perhaps your Dad is trapped there too?" Rayla offered.

    The mood around the table darkened, and Rayla could scarcely hear the discordant yet unmistakable sub-vocalization of a bard song. It was subtle enough that Rayla felt the skin on her arms tighten with anxiety and Callum appeared to be shivering despite the blazing sun.

    The effect ended only when Nivin asked, "how can you be sure?"

    Rayla exhaled all the pent-up anxiety inside her and she could feel Callum loosen up as well. This was a risky play but as she had suspected, Nivin's father didn't abandon his family after the Dragon King's murder, but he disappeared just like her parents.

    Now it was Rayla's turn to lean in, "only one way to be sure. Fendyn and I will go back in. Now that we know what we're doin', we can find my parents and your father. We'll find a way to communicate with them. We let them know we are aware of them. Then we figure out how we can rescue them."

    Callum added, "if your father is in the spirit realm, we'll rescue him too, but we need your help first."

    Nivin sighed and waved over one of the wait staff, "bring us a bottle of plum wine, please and three tall glasses."

    The waiter glanced at Callum and Rayla, "uh, it's inn policy to check the ids at everyone at the table before serving..."

    Callum piped in, "oh, I'll be seventeen in two months. Is that a problem?"

    The corners of the waiter's mouth curled up and he looked back at Nivin uncomfortably, "it's just, they're clearly minors, master Nivin..."

    Nivin flicked his hand and the server scampered away in a huff. Nivin rubbed his temples, the colour of cheeks seemed to drain away. He said finally, "Rayla, it's true that our parents met the same fate. But if I'm going to help you, I need to you to take me into the spirit world with you."

    Callum spoke up, "no way."

    Rayla cleared her throat, grabbing Callum by the hand, "what Fendyn means is that we have to agree to mutual terms first. I understand that Sunfire Elves are bound to duty in the same we Moonshadow Elves bind ourselves to our targets of enmity."

    The Sunfire elf's face contorted into a sneer and Rayla thought this time she pushed him too far. She also knew Nivin's proud personality well enough that he'd likely not turn down an opportunity to find his Dad. The Sunfire exhaled sharply and his face relaxed, "I know what you are driving at. State your terms."

    "If we bring you with us you are "on duty". Everythin' that you witness and experience that has anything to do with what we discuss here stays between the three of us. Agreed?"

    "That is a high price!" Nivin exclaimed.

    "Swear to it," Rayla said in a firm voice, not backing down from her steely gaze.

    Nivin shrugged. He placed one hand over his heart and with the other hand he touched his horns with thumb and forefinger. He then clapped his hands together whispering into them loud enough so that Rayla and Callum could hear, "I Nivin, hereby bind myself by oath and blood to the terms as given." He seemed to shiver slightly at the end of his words and when he looked up, Rayla thought she saw a brief flash of light cross his eyes. Whatever magic hid inside the words he invoked, she was convinced he would not tell a soul.

    The trio looked at each other with wide eyes, unsure of who will speak next. It was Nivin who broke the stalemate, "what do you want to know?"

    For the next hour, Nivin told them everything he knew from his father. From the details of the Dragon's Keep to every item contained within the Dragon King's halls. He went into what he knew about the mirror, how it was believe to trap a powerful and dangerous Startouch Elf named Aaravos. How it was this Startouch elf who taught the humans to use Dark Magic earning his banishment. Callum and Rayla listened through it all, mouths agape throughout the entire history lesson.

    The trio spent the remainder of their visit in the pleasant company of their Sunfire host under the soothing warmth of a slowly setting sun. When they at last departed, Rayla and Callum could barely contained their chortles at a plan that worked. They bounded up the pathway that lead through the verdant beauty of the central park. In Callum's excitement, he threw his arms around Rayla's waist, picking her up and twirling her around. She threw her head back and laughed in spontaneous surprise. Callum set Rayla down and their eyes locked. She brushed away a loose lock of her silver-white hair over her ear. They closed their eyes, time forever frozen in the briefest moment as one human and one elf poured all their combined fears, memories, and love into one trembling sensation as they leaned their heads and lips together, unbearably close.

    From the ash tree trunk, two young bard students sang out, "OooooooOOO!" in sing-song harmony. Rayla burst out laughing as Callum leaned his head in her shoulder, chuckling at the spoiled opportunity.

    "We'll find our perfect moment," she whispered.

    "I know, I'm sorry."

    "Hey," she said, "I loved our date."

    "Did you though? I promise I'll take you out for a real date if we ever get back to Katolis."

    She beamed unable to say out loud the thoughts that flashed through her mind at his words. She tugged at his hands, "c'mon, we need to get ready for tonight."

    They walked back, their mood more serious as they considered the fate of Rayla's parents and how they were going to convince Zelmai to let Nivin come too.


	11. Threshold Guardians

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Callum, Rayla venture back into the deadly spirit realm with a new ally to get answers to the questions of who Aaravos is and what are his ultimate goals. But are they truly prepared for what they find?

**Callum**

"I won't do it."

    Rayla threw her arms into the air with frustration then held a hand out to Callum as if to say,  _tag, you're next_. Callum was certain Zelmai would go along with the plan if only to help his niece and nephew locate their parents. What Callum didn't account for was the old elf saying no.

    The young prince reached into his satchel pulling out the cube bearing the embossed runes of the six magical primal sources. The magical sources that elves believe power all the magic in the world. His father had once called it 'The Key of Aaravos' and though Callum had only witnessed it glow from time to time, deep inside he knew he was closer to unlocking its secret.

    "Zelmai please," Callum said, holding the cube out with his hand, "we only know through Nivin that Aaravos was trapped in the mirror and my brother tells me he's now escaped. We need to know if Aaravos trapped Rayla and Nivin's parents in the spirit world."

    Zelmai shook his head and Callum thought the old elf shivered as he pointed the cube at the wisened elf. "Callum," Zelmai said sadly, "you have no idea the level of danger you are messing with here. I'm certain the magic that keeps Aaravos locked inside the mirror also prevented him from using magic. In any case, I'm asking the both of you please leave my nephew out of all of this."

_He doesn't believe Aaravos has escaped..._

    Callum felt the blood drain from his face but there was nothing else for it, he had to come clean. "We invited Nivin to join us into the spirit world. He'll be here any minute and... 

    "Tell him you're grounded, which you definitely are," the old elf harrumphed.

    "We made him swear a Sunfire oath of duty," added Rayla.

    Zelmai put his hands on his face, exhaling a lengthy breath. Callum was already pushing his luck contravening his teacher's demands to end his relationship with his niece. But Callum would do anything - even if it meant ending his training - if it helped Rayla find her parents.

    "My nephew is going to flip his wig when he sees you aren't an elf, you know that?" said Zelmai with a voice as coarse as stones.

    Rayla replied, "I'm counting on his oath to keep him from telling anyone."

    From upstairs, there came a knock on the door. Callum's heart began to race as the prospect of revealing his true identity came to fruition. Nivin was a powerful Bard and a dangerous person to cross.

    "I'll get it," said Callum.

    "No!" Rayla and Zelmai said in unison.

    "No," Rayla said, holding her hand up, "I'll get it. You just stick to the shadows for now until we can ween Nivin gently into your... human-ness."

    Rayla ran up the spiralling, wooden staircase dropping motes through the shafts of light coming through the cracks in the floor. Zelma's face was tight and Callum could tell the old elf was upset. Callum tried to find the right words to say that would somehow convey exactly what he felt in his heart. He fumbled over the words when they did come. "You'd do the same thing for the person you loved," he said.

    Zelmai didn't answer, except to cross his wiry arms across his chest. He didn't have to answer, he would echo the same refrain: his relationship clouds his judgement.

    They looked up at the ceiling as the sound of muffled voices filled the living room above their heads. Callum backed himself against the cold stone foundation walls and Zelmai went over the far wall to turn down the lights. Rayla was the first one down the stairs, followed by Nivin who had to duck to avoid hitting his head on the low beams. Nivin wore the same outfit he had worn the first night they arrived at the village. Adrenaline coursed through the young mage's veins as he saw the scabbard containing what he presumed was a deadly Sunforge blade.

    Nivin squinted his eyes in the hazy lighting of the lab. His elven eyes quickly adjusted and he spotted the humanoid figure of Callum in the corner. "Fendyn?" he said with a nervous chuckle, "come out of the shadows before I start to think I'm about to be ambushed."

    "No, not yet," said Callum from the shadow, "you gave us your word that you are duty bound not to reveal anything you see or do tonight, is that true?"

    The tall elf scoffed and shook his head, "your question wounds me, Fendyn. I thought we were friends?"

    "We are but I need to hear you swear it, again!" Callum said, raising his voice with an assertive tone.

    Nivin held out his arms and bowed to Callum's shadow, "of course, I swear it. Now please, reveal yourself."

    Callum stepped forward, letting the the low glow of the light highlight his face. His head no longer sprouted horns nor his ears sported the tell-tale shape of an elf. Nivin gasped at the shocking sight of a human.

    "Who are you?" he shouted, grasping the handle of his sword letting a sliver from his blade bathe Callum's features in a garish, orange glow.

    Callum held up a hand to block the harsh light just as Rayla darted in front of him, holding one hand out to Nivin and reaching for her moonshadow short sword with the other.

    Nivin's mouth curled into a sneer as he saw the pair standing together. "You... you traitor!" he snarled at Rayla. In a flash, the tall Sunfire elf unsheathed his Sunforge blade bathing the room with livid light forcing Callum and Rayla to blink away yellow after-images. But Callum had silently prepared his  _Aspiro Frigis_ spell, the crackling forces echoed off the basement walls like two icebergs colliding at sea. Rayla unleashed the fury of her butterfly swords cutting the air with a whistle-crack.

    Before Callum could launch his spell, he was struck with magical force so concussive, he felt his organs shift inside his torso. The three combatants dropped their weapons, released their spells and collapsed to the hard floor into a fetal-like heap. To Callum it felt as though someone filled his head with air and popped it like a balloon. 

    "Everyone get that out of their system?" said Zelmai sounding like a scolding parent, "good, let's set some ground rules. You go into the spirit world, identify your parents, you get out. Don't screw around in there."

    All three groggily agreed to the old elf's terms. Callum grasped Rayla's hand and pulled her onto her feet. Rayla went over to Nivin offering her hand to assist him up but he only batted it away. Callum scowled as the Sunfire kipped-up onto his feet.

    "Right then," Zelmai said, pointing at Rayla. "You start. I'll prep the lab for moon alignment and you do... whatever it was that made you go into the spirit realm in the first place."

    Rayla gave Nivin a furtive glance as she picked up her bardic sword and wound the braided unicorn string over her torso. Nivin leaned against a wooden pillar, his mouth curling down. Callum tensed as he watched Rayla assume the Sunfire bard stance. She stepped forward, using her sword to pull the cord taught and the braid made a low hum. She spun around extending one leg into the air as she moved the cord under her foot, she struck the cord hard with her sword, creating the first chorus of sounds. Images of an ancient battlefields raced through Callum's mind and he felt his pulse quicken. With a flick of her neck, Rayla hooked the unicorn-hair cord around the horns on her head and Callum could see the purple lines emit a ghostly blue glow. Callum felt a cold chill seep into his body like someone opened the cellar door, just as Rayla twisted a second harmony into her song. 

    The battle images inside his mind faded replaced instead by piercing emotional sadness of loss, like when the wives, husbands, daughters and sons grieve for their dead soldiers at wars end. It was the overwhelming emptiness of death's void. It was like the last time he went into the underworld.

    Rayla continued her dour dance, striking the cord with ever more somber tones. Blue light emanating from her horns that blazed not with brightness but with an intense consistency beyond that which normal light should possess in the living world. It enthralled Callum's mind, calling him like a foghorn in the empty void. Nivin's eyes closed as he slumped over on the post. Zelmai too seemed transfixed by Rayla's song, but he was able to shake himself from the effects.

    "I am not ready!" the old elf shouted, "Rayla, slow down. I'm not..." the blind elf yelled into a swirling, blue maelstrom, "Callum you have to reach everyone!"

    Rayla's song stirred the air into a viscous morass of thickened time. Callum strained as he placed one leg in front of the other and only through his physical training was he able to grasp Nivin's hand. He tried to reach out for Rayla but she was too focused in her own macabre reverie. He instead grabbed Zelmai's outstretched hand and with a flash, his physical body was absorbed into the void.

**Rayla**

Rayla's eyes fluttered open inside the inky blue haze of the spirit realm. Her mind was lucid though she felt very much like inside a dream, ruminating memories begged her to collapse into unconsciousness. She blinked away her ruminations instead looking around for some frame of reference. Finding none, she called out to Callum but her throat could not form words though she felt the familiar ticklish butterfly sensation inside her stomach. She let the feeling wash over her as she fought to maintain control over the alien world. 

    She screwed her ethereal eyes tight and began to focus on her mother's face, trying to remember her voice and the words she told her before she was sent away to train with Runaan.

 _'Rayla?'_  said a familiar voice from somewhere outside the shimmering void. Rayla opened her eyes and saw before her two hovering doorways. The one on the left was ornate and had the familiar emotions from the last time she was in the spirit realm. The doorway to the right was much smaller, and seemed more rustic if not built in a haphazard manner. The voice called again and it was definitely coming from the right-most door.

    Rayla willed her spirit-form forwards like a balloon bobbing in a draft. As she passed the door's threshold, the hazy shapes of the rustic room began to twist into curving bookshelves that angled upwards into the ceiling. The back of the room formed into an expansive window, bending into the subtle shape of a half moon. A fireplace burned with a dull heat and even in her ethereal form, Rayla felt its radiating warmth. 

    There was something familiar here, a smell that triggers a memory from childhood. She found the strongest sensation came from a desk in the corner and as she willed her form closer, she felt a tingling inside her chest. The desk drawer was open and Rayla could peer inside seeing quills, sheets of paper, some loose coins and a vial of ink. Nothing out of the ordinary except... the heads on the coins were moving! 

    Rayla tried to pick up a coin but found her hand only passed through the drawer. She willed her head closer and her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach. One of coins contained the terrified image of her own father pushing against the confining edges.

     _"Pa?"_  the voice inside her mind cried, and a shimmering vibration coursed throughout the room like ripples on a pond. The face of her father stopped screaming and looked almost as if he heard his daughter's voice. 

    Rayla's eyes went wide as she thought his mouth made out her name:  _'Rayla...'._ A tiny tickle in her mind triggered latent memories of a late spring when her father would take her foraging for edible flowers near her village.

    Rayla's mind was awash with grief and she felt emerald tears welling up in her ghostly eyes.  _"Pa, can you hear me?"_  Her mind cried out, once more sending shimmering ripples bouncing into the void.

    Through hazy tears, Rayla watching as her father folded his hands together into a Moonshadow elf prayer, his face beaming with joy.  _"I'm coming for you, pa!"_  she sobbed into the drawer, clawing feebly at her father's coin with smoky fingernails.

    The entrance to the room slammed open, blowing Rayla's form away with an invisible draft. A thin man wearing tattered robes shuffled into the room. He looked ancient to Rayla's eyes, bearing a deeply lined face with subtle elfish features and skin as pale as chalk. A furious rage overcame Rayla and she reached for her swords but found they did not manifest with her. The old man peered around the room through jaundiced eyes. He walked towards the desk and slammed the drawer closed.

    "I know you are in here, shade. Reveal yourself," the thin man said in a screeching voice that pierced the void, chaffing Rayla's mind.

    Rayla pushed herself further up into into the corner of the ceiling, trying to make herself as small as possible.

    The thin man drew a thrashing rune of indigo blue and Rayla felt her ghost's form tingle with an electric sensation.

     _"Exero viventem! "_  the thin man shouted.

     Shards of electric current crackled throughout Rayla's body, spasming muscles that didn't exist but her certainly mind felt. She cried out in pain and she lost her ability to control her form, crashing hard into the floor. Despite her ghost form, the fall hurt her as badly as if it were a physical drop and her vision blurred with stars.

    "Oh, ho-ho!" the thin man's grating voice cooed, "a visitor joins us at last."

    Rayla tried to move her body but magical electricity prevented  muscles from moving. She tried to call out but her voice only croaked inside her mind. The thin man pulled out a gnarled wand from his robes, which he used to inscribe a complex rune in the air. The putrefaction of it made her gag, as the air bubbled with a hissing bile. The man shakily pointed the wand at Rayla's twitching body and began to spout vile words that made Rayla wretch.

    Rayla closed her eyes, she didn't want to die this way; a ghost locked inside her mind. She wanted to apologize to her father for letting him down. She wanted to touch Callum's face one last time. For a brief moment, she thought of his earnest, smiling, moonshaped eyes and felt the tickling butterflies inside her stomach. Curiously, she also felt what Nivin's judging gaze.

    Two ghosts burst through the far side of the wall. The taller ghost flew through the thin man's head sending him reeling backwards. As the man pawed at his own face like he walked through a spider web, the second, smaller ghost leaned over Rayla's unmoving form, recoiled from the after-effect's of the electrical spell. The smaller ghost's next attempt was more successful, scooping Rayla into its arms. The three ghosts floated through the rear wall and Rayla recognized they were soon back where she had started.

    Rayla recognized her saviour ghost as it began to take form. She through her ethereal arms around Callum's ghost neck, feeling all his panic, relief and love. She wondered if Callum could feel her emotions as well. She let go of their embrace but ghost Callum held her face gently between his hands, looking into her eyes. She could feel Nivin's gaze too, though she wasn't feeling any judgement.

      _Empathy perhaps?_

    Callum pointed at Nivin and himself then towards the entranceway to the larger ballroom. Rayla picked up through his emotes that he was asking if she was okay to continue with the mission. She nodded and gave him a firm thumbs up. Rayla turned to Nivin and tried to emote to him that he needed to concentrate on his parents in order to make them appear. Nivin  looked quizzically at Rayla but seemed to get what she was communicating. The three of them nodded and willed their ghost forms through the larger entrance.

    The coterie of living ghosts entered the ballroom. The scene was familiar to Rayla except the ballroom was now filled with massive number of ghosts. The ghosts' movements were jagged and course. The trio had to float upwards to the ceiling to escape the gala below and Rayla looked at Callum holding her hands up as if to ask,  _what is going on?_

    Callum shrugged but he moved towards Nivin and beckoned him to focus his mind on his Dad. Nivin wrung his eyes shut, and the two watched and waited for some sign of Nivin's father appearing. After a moment, Nivin opened his eyes, but the sheer volume of ghosts packed inside the ballroom prevented him from focusing on faces.

    From the far side of the ballroom, came three concussive knocks. Twin doors, invisible until that moment, swung open on hinges. Countless spirits tumbled through the doors, pouring into the room like rocks tumbling down over cliff.  The new souls appeared to resent their imprisonment and thrashed and clawed each other in panic. The doors slammed shut and the three living ghosts looked at each other with fear, wondering if they were trapped in here as well.

    Rayla picked up another familiar sense in her mind. In her heart she felt a the sense of reassurance and protection whenever she was in presence of Runaan.

     _"Runaan!"_  she called out with her mind sending the rippling echoes bounding off the walls. A few ghosts looked lazily upwards at the trio on the ceiling, but Runaan was no where to be found. She pointed at Nivin and opened her mouth and pointing at her head as if to say,  _you try_.

     Nivin opened and closed his mouth a few times, he shut his eyes and shouted out his father's name but it was only a whisper in Rayla's mind. He tried again, the next time sounding much more profound,  _"Kaelas!"_

    From the far side of the room next to the doors, there came a howling noise like wind scraping over a mountain's peak. Three shades, formless and grey, floated above the restless spirits below. Rayla, Callum and Nivin maneuvered into a defensive position, unsure of these new phantasms intentions. But the new shadows didn't attack, their wispy incoherent shapes materialized into human forms. Rayla at once recognized Runaan looking up at her with sadness. Nivin recognized his father and he wrapped his arms around his son. The third shade hovered in the back, its true form never fully materializing. For a moment, Rayla felt the same unconditional love when she used to hold mother's hand as a child. 

    She also felt a terrible pang of guilt.

    Rayla reached out her hand to the formless shadow but it recoiled backwards. Rayla shook her head and tried to emote her own sense of forgiveness but the ghost retreated into the whirling mass of spirits below. Rayla wanted to pursue it, but Callum grabbed her elbow, pointing back and up towards Runaan who was beckoning them to follow. Rayla paused, unsure whether to follow who she was certain was her mother. She sighed and followed Runaan.

    Runaan and Nivin's father lead them to the far end of the ballroom, gesturing towards the doors. Rayla tried to emote her confusion but she was interrupted by three loud knocks from the door. The doors split open and more ghosts piled into the room. Rayla looked outside the doors for the source of the spirits, at first seeing a jagged circle of blinding light but then she could made out the clear outline of gigantic hand pouring in more souls from its palm. She saw what looked like drawstrings pulling the circle of light closed. 

     _We're inside a gigantic bag!_

    Nivin's eyes narrowed looking up at the fading light. Before Runaan or his ghost father could stop him, he launched himself through the doors. Callum flew after Nivin and Rayla was about to follow but Runaan stopped her, gesturing frantically at the closing doors. Runaan and Nivin's father braced themselves against one door while Rayla pushed against the other but the magic forcing the door closed was too powerful.

    The newly arrived spirits began to claw at Rayla's skin, biting into her exposed arms and scratching her back. Rayla cried out as she felt the spirits chewed through her ghostly skin and buried smokey fangs inside her bones. The agony was terrible and she couldn't fight against the scraping doors any longer.

     _"Callum!"_  she cried out with her mind, and she could feel the fear and terror in her own voice as it rippled and bounced out the doors.

    Nivin and Callum tumbled down the pouch and into the frenzied melee. Dragging the unconscious form of Nivin with one hand, Callum leapt up from the pile of thrashing ghosts and grasped Rayla arm. The doors closed with a slam and Rayla could see Runaan placing his hand on his chest, a look of relief on his face.

 _"Zelmai, bring us back!"_  Callum shouted. The last thing Rayla remembered was Runaan holding out his outstretched hand to her as the three living ghosts were whisked out of the clogged doorway, out the ballooning ballroom and back through her subconscious mind.

*** * * * ***

Rayla awoke feeling the stone floor of Zelmai's basement robbing her skin of heat. Her head pounded and she craved a drink of moonberry juice like never before in her life. The pain behind her eyes reminded her that she was back in the living world. She jumped to her feet but she nearly passed out with dizziness. She was grateful to hear Callum's groggy voice as he was beginning to stir. Rayla saw that he was lying between Zelmai and Nivin both continued to lie motionless on the floor. Rayla ran around the table to the centre of the room and hugged Callum who was still lying on the ground.

    "Rayla? What happened?"

    "We're back," the moonshadow elf said in a course whisper, "I saw Runaan and my pa' and my..." She remembered the ghost she was certain was her mother, but pushed down the roiling lava of emotion building inside her. "We found Nivin's dad."

     "Yes, I remember," Callum said. Then his eyes went wide with fear.  He gasped, "I saw him, Rayla!" He clutched at her arm and she could feel the cold sweat of his shivering hand against her skin.

    Before Callum could finish describing what he saw, he looked over at Nivin's still unconscious form. He gave Nivin's shoulder a shake but he remained unresponsive. 

    Callum healing rune hissed and crackled above the unconscious bodies of Nivin and Zelmai and he said the words of incantation, " _Medeor Corporis."_ Rayla watched as Callum's eyes glowed a soft golden light. He placed his hands on the cheeks of the two still elves, until the golden radiance dimmed. Rayla felt the warmth of his healing spell as her soul drank its nourishing light.

    Nivin's eyes fluttered open. Nivin sat up, holding his head with his hand. He glanced first at Callum then Rayla before he sniffed deeply and buried his palms into his eyes; his torso convulsed with sobs. Callum gave a soft look at Rayla and they both sat beside Nivin, sandwiching him with a hug. They sat like that for some time until Nivin's sobs slowed and he wiped away tears with his gloved hand. He looked up at Callum with red, puffy eyes, grabbed his shoulder and gave it a knowing squeeze.

    The corners of Callum mouth softened as he nodded. He turned and saw that Zelmai was still lying face up. His eyes were open though unblinking.

    "Zelmai?" he said, but the old elf remained still.

    Again he cast his healing spell, using the full force of his will. Rayla felt her soul filled to the brim with its nourishing warmth but there was still no response from Zelmai. Rayla ran over to the mechanism of her uncle's planetarium controls.

    "Nivin!" Rayla shouted from the far side of the room, "help me find the combination."

    Just as Nivin jumped to his feet, the tiny, alien caterpillar fell from the back of his collar. The little creature crawled along the stone floor and up the table leg. It spotted the cube-like item that Callum had left there, the so-called "key of Aaravos". His master's key. The powerful mage at the other end watched through its familiar's eyes as the key glowed with every cast of Callum's spells.

**Aaravir**

"I know where we strike first," hissed the mage, steering his mount towards the east. His mount bared its teeth and replied with a roar of fury.


	12. Breach and Clear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claudia and Soren arrive at The Breach and try to convince General Amaya to let them pass in order to hunt down their father.
> 
> Warning: this chapter contains violent descriptions of combat compared to previous chapters. I've adjusted my warnings accordingly.

**Claudia**

Claudia and Soren felt the heat of the breach before they saw it. The vast, crenelated battlements poked over the horizon as they made their way up the hill. The bulwark marked the first redoubt of human sovereignty and the first line of defence against the magical creatures of Xadia. The land had been split coast to coast by a roiling river of lava and had once been guarded by the King of the Dragons known as Thunder. Since Thunder’s murder at the hands of humans, and subsequent revenge undertaken by Moonshdow elves, the breach’s garrison had tripled in number. Claudia had no doubt the elves had increased their soldiers on their side of the breach as well. There was nothing for it, if they were going to bring their target to justice, they had to cross the breach into Xadia.

    Their horses struggled as they slowly wound their way up the rock-strewn trail leading up to the garrison. They had passed several checkpoints along the way and, once again, she was grateful for her brother’s company as his status as royal guard allowed them through unchecked. She was hoping that word of Soren’s resignation would not catch up with them before they made it through the breach.

    Waiting at the top of the pathway was the one person Claudia was hoping she wouldn’t have to run into. The one person who held a grudge against her and her monster for a Dad: General Amaya. The General stood like a sentinel clad in her powerful armour, her arms akimbo, wearing the vast shield on her back. Standing next to her was her ever-faithful interpreter, the recently promoted, Major Gren. Gren shared Amaya's scowl and stared unblinking as Claudia and Soren rode up the path. 

    The pathway levelled off before the redoubt portcullis. Soldiers clad in armour painted in Katolis heraldry lined the entrance bracing their long pikes. Their stoic faces were scorched and waxy from exposure to heat. Some swordsmen and women had unsheathed their swords as the two approached, and Claudia felt the early warning of anxiety welling up inside her mind. She pushed the thoughts down.

    “That’s close enough,” General Amaya signed through Gren, “state your business here, children of the traitor.”

    Soren unfurled King Ezren's royal proclamation and shouted the words over the roar of roiling lava, “by order of the King, Claudia, daughter of the traitor known as Viren, has been issued a royal mandate of redemption by bringing the accused back to Katolis to face his justice by any and all means necessary.”

    Soren rolled the paper and tucked it into his waist pouch. Claudia clicked her tongue making her horse move forward then looked into the towering General’s still scowling eyes.

    “General Amaya,” Claudia began, with rehearsed timing, “I have evidence that leads me to believe the monster we once knew as Viren had ventured into Xadian lands, for what purpose I can only speculate. I would ask your permission to allow us passage to pursue my royal mandate.”

    The General curled up an eyebrow and made a flurry of signs to Major Gren. Gren signed back, looking warily at Soren as he finished his statement.

    “Captain Soren, or should I say former Captain Soren. I’ve been informed you no longer serve under the King’s banner, and yet you stand before me bearing the heraldry of that title,” Amaya’s signed with agitation, “wearing a royal mark under false pretences is considered stolen valour.”

    Soren looked back at his sister, turning his eyes downward defeatedly. He unclasped the cape from his shoulder pads, letting the long, black cape with gilded-edges whip against the buffeting winds of lava-heated air. The cape blew from his grip and twirled high over the parapets. Claudia watched as it disappeared out of sight into the lava stream below.

    Soren coaxed his horse forward but General Amaya held her hand up again and signed, “that armour also belongs to Katolis.”

    “Do you expect me to go into Xadia defenceless?” Soren exclaimed.

    “You haven’t convinced me to let you into Xadia at all,” she signed, then turned to address the young dark mage, “don’t look so angry, Claudia. Dismount your horses and follow me into the guardhouse.”

    The pair obeyed the general, climbing out of their saddles and handing the reins to an awaiting soldier. A pair of guards armed with pikes followed them into the guardhouse built into the side of a parapet. The room was packed with officers planning strategies and organizing defences. At the centre of the room was a large table holding a miniaturized model of the breach and the vast surrounding areas stretching for miles within human and into Xadian lands. With a flick of her hand, the General signalled one of the adjutants to cover up the table with a tablecloth but Claudia noticed icons representing units operating deep inside Sunfire territory.

    “Sit,” the general signed and the pair reached for chairs in front of the table, “not you, Soren. I made myself clear that you are to return your stolen property.”

    Soren froze, looking incredulously at General Amaya then back at Claudia who only shook her head and made an apologetic pleading with her eyes. Her brother sighed, shook his head sadly and was led out of the room.

    General Amaya eyed Soren leave through narrowed eyes, when he finally left the room she turned her steely gaze at Claudia, never blinking. Claudia averted her eyes and opened her mouth to speak, but the grizzled general cut her off.

    “You spoke of evidence that Viren escaped to the elven lands?”

    "Yes.”

    “I’m going to presume your evidence comes from Dark Magic sources?”

    “Well… yes,” Claudia stammered.

    General Amaya grimaced and shook her head. She exchanged several signs with Major Gren who maintained an impartial face and after a pause he made a flurry of signs back to his general who nodded. He continued to speak on the general’s behalf.

    “Where in Xadia do you believe your father is?”

    Claudia cringed at the reminder that they were hunting the monster that was once her father. It broke her concentration and she couldn’t remember the exact terminology Soren used to describe where their target was located. Soren was the team's geography expert after all.

    “I last used my tracking spell a day ago when Viren was very close to the Xadian border. It would help me if I had a better understanding of the land around us,” she pointed at the covered table, “can I see this?”

    Major Gren frowned and shook her head but General Amaya held up a gloved hand and nodded. Two lower ranking officers walked up to the table and carefully rolled back the sheet, taking caution not to knock over any of the loose battle markers.

    “Show me,” the general said.

   Claudia stood up searching for the mountain peak where she had last cast her spell. She asked one of the lower ranking officers for assistance and they helped her locate and triangulate the general location within the Xadian lands. Glancing at the battle map, Claudia confirmed her earlier suspicion that there were human spies working behind Xadian lines.

    The General caught her glance and scowled, signing, “I needn’t remind you how many lives are at stake if any of the information you see here gets out.”

    “I understand,” Claudia.

    “Do you?” Major Gren echoed Amaya's sentiment snidely.

    “Yes, General. The King has put his faith in me and so can you.”

    "The previous King trusted your father too," The General slammed her gauntleted hands hard on the planning table, knocking over several unit pieces, “and now he's dead.”

    “I am not my father!” Claudia belted out the words so loud her voice cracked and the room went silent as officers turned away from their own conversations to see the commotion.

     General Amaya pulled her hands back from the table and folded them across her armoured chest. For the first time since Claudia could remember, the general smiled, it was a thin smile but Claudia would take any win in the moment. General Amaya sat back on her high backed seat, folding one leg over an armoured thigh in a more relaxed pose. Claudia leaned her hip against the planning table and letting her rapid heart beat slow down inside her chest. The General made a motion for her to sit down.

    The general waited for Gren to clear his throat before continuing, “what are your plans once in Xadia? Or was it your plan to simply go in there dressed like the mortal enemy of every elf who has ever lived?”

    Claudia tugged at the fringes of her traditional Dark Mage outfit. She smirked, not really sure how to answer. The only plan from this point forward were like her typical plans: just wing it.

    “You can stop worrying now, Claudia,” said the General, “you’ve convinced me to let you and your brother go. It so happens a replacement pathfinder unit moves into Xadia tonight close to where you say your father is located. I will permit you to travel with them but you are to do absolutely everything they tell you to, understood?”

    “Yes, General Amaya, thank you.”

    “Don’t thank me yet, it won’t be easy. You won’t be able to rely on any dark magic in Xadia, in fact, I forbid it. Leave all of your spell materials behind and if I get word that you cast one single cantrip, you’ll answer to me. Got it?”

    Claudia nodded, the full gravity of this undertaking beginning to weigh on her. Without her dark magic abilities she would be practically useless. But considering she had no other options, she was forced to agree with the terms.

    “Good,” signed the General, “go join your brother and get fitted with a set of pathfinder armour. Oh, and Claudia… catch.”

    As quick as a thought, the General unsheathed a small dagger from her belt and lobbed it towards Claudia. In one fluid movement the young mage snatched the weapon out of the air by its handle, utilizing the thin blade's kinetic energy with her own thrust to make the blade whip through the air. She arced it with deadly proficiency downwards then back upwards to eye level, where she inspected the fine quality of the multi-tempered edge. She twirled the dagger deftly between her fingers before tucking it inside the loop of her belt. Major Gren whistled at the display.

    “Thanks!” said the mage, “I’ll give it back to you on our way back.”

    “The Viren children are full of surprises.” General Amaya signed with a wry smile then let her smile fade into a stern look as she signed, “but keep the blade. I doubt we will ever see each other again.”

    Claudia winked with a grin and said, “well, won’t you be surprised when I bring back a monster.”  
  


*** * * ***

She gave her newly fitted outfit a once over. Combat was secondary to the pathfinder’s mandate of scout and observe, therefore bulky armour and weapons were sacrificed for speed and silence. Her uniform consisted of a quilted tunic dyed olive green with a matching set of heavy canvas breeches with deep pockets sewn into the sides. She was also issued with a light, billowy cape made of a silk-like material tacked with a camouflage patchwork of blacks, greens and browns. Claudia watched as her brother stretched into his ill-fitting pathfinder uniform. At first she was worried for her brother having lost his proud heavy plate and cape but he seemed to enjoy the undersized uniform as he flexed his muscles in front of a full length mirror.

    “I could get used to this!” Soren said, striking a pose and making his pectoral muscles bounce.

     A mountain of a man wearing a worn pathfinder uniform entered the room. His thick brown beard had a tinge of grey at the edges and his skin had the mottled look of too many hard days in the elements. He carried a small rucksack on the small of his back and a long, blade holstered diagonally along the front of his torso. He went up to each person in the room, checking their equipment and tightening buckles. The deep timbre of his voice sounded like an avalanche, but his icy blue eyes gave away his concern for every woman and man under his command.

    “Everyone out in the courtyard in fifteen. New people, come with me,” the officer turned towards the exit, ducking under the archway.

    Claudia quickly stowed the remaining items from her kitbag into her newly issued rucksack. For a second she thought she would do exactly as General Amaya had ordered and leave behind all of her spell components but she decided to tuck three or four important items into her backpack including her mortal and pestle. She looked back at Soren still flexing in the mirror and was about to call out to him but a pathfinder veteran with blond hair shaved along one side of her head beat her to it.

    “Oi, pretty-boy,” said the hardened veteran in a gruff feminine voice.

    Soren turned and smiled at the veteran, “oh, hey there.”

    “You new?” she growled.

     “Well, yeah but I’ve been with the crown guard for oh…”

     “I don’t care if you used to wipe the king’s tiny, royal arse, when the lieutenant gives you an order you snap-to, you sunuva…” the pathfinder continued to verbally assault Soren with a barrage of colourful words which Claudia had only heard at the docks of Katolis.

    Soren followed Claudia out of the room, cringing at the continuous stream of laughter and japes from the other pathfinders. Claudia’s eyes adjusted slowly to the dim, orange ambient light of the lava just under the parapets. The pathfinder lieutenant was hard to miss as he stood like a tower in the middle of the courtyard. With a wave of his beefy hand, he beckoned the siblings closer.

    “My name is Lieutenant Einar but outside these walls it’s Einar or just Ein if you like. Anything but sir or Lieutenant or heaven forbid ‘ell-tee’. Elves target officers and I’ve got enough Xadian bounties on my back.”

    He waited for the pair to acknowledge which they both did with a somber nod.

    “Next, everyone and I mean everyone here outranks you. You listen, you obey, you live, understood?”

    Again the pair nodded.

    “This will be the only time I expect to hear a ‘yes sir’ out of both you but I need you both to say it.”

    “Yes, sir,” the two of them said in unison.

    “Good. Ok. I know who you both are and I don’t care, when we are out in the field as far as I’m concerned you are Pathfinders. We’re one family and families look out for one another. We let each other know if anything looks out of the ordinary and we make sure we all come back. Now, wait here for the others.”

    The gigantic man placed his heavy hands on both Claudia’s and Soren’s shoulders as he brushed pass them and walked into the shadows with a swiftness that defied his massive frame. Claudia and Soren looked at each other solemnly and sighed together. Another sibling moment when words wouldn't have to be exchanged but they understood what they were both thinking.

    Claudia distracted herself by playing with the catch on her dagger strapped along chest guard. Soren kept his longsword, which he lashed across his back. The other members of the pathfinder team muddled into the courtyard, looking over equipment of their fellow team members. The same veteran that had given Soren a hard time moments earlier walked up to him and gave his equipment a once over. Soren recoiled when she pulled out a fist sized dagger.

    “Loose threads catch on branches, pretty-boy,” she scoffed, “elves got them big ears you know? Hear everything.”

    She began cutting off all the loose threads from his newly issued uniform. Then stepped back to admire her work, placing the blade back in its holster.

    “There,” she smiled, and gave him a pat on the shoulder, “you might pass as one of us now.”

    Soren canted his head to one side and smirked. Lieutenant Einar called the ten-member-plus-two pathfinder team to form a tight semi-circle around him as he gave them the deployment briefing. They would be heading over the breach using a newly excavated tunnel that wove under the edge of breach cliff wall. They would be touching the lava so rebreather masks would be worn for part of the journey. He gave out hand signals and other code words that would be used. The briefing was indeed very brief and they departed in little time.

    The Lieutenant kept a brisk pace and Claudia had to jog to keep up with her companions. The short line of humans, wove through the tunnels and Claudia nostrils burned with stench of sulphur, making her cough. A pathfinder held a finger to his lips and pointed to her rebreather mask which she quickly donned, but the cloth filter made it hard for her to suck in oxygen and her head swam. The heat was unbearable, and her olive green uniform turned dark blue with drenched sweat. There were moments when she stumbled but her brother was behind her, lifting her up at first by the hooks on her rucksack then by throwing her arm over his shoulders and carrying most of her weight.

    Minutes seemed to Claudia like hours, but the cohort had finally made it over the river of lava. They all whipped off their rebreather masks and Claudia sucked in the sweet, honeyed Xadian air. The landscape was completely dark save for the silhouettes of twelve humanoid forms against the scrabble landscape. The humans crouched from cover to cover, and Claudia’s back and legs ached from the exertion, but she wouldn’t allow any weakness to show. Not when she was closer than ever to reach her target

    They had passed two Sunfire patrols but their cloaks and silence allowed them to pass unscathed. Two hours after crossing into Xadia, Lieutenant Einar called for a fifteen minute break. Claudia rolled onto the hard pack ground breathing in invisible dust eddies that swirled around her in the inky night. For some reason the stars seemed brighter to her and the land  buzzed with magical energy, tickling her gums. Soren removed the water canteen from her webbing, unscrewed the top and offered it to her. She drank down the tepid fluid letting it quench her dry mouth. It was strange, but in that short amount of time for a break she felt like she had a full night's sleep.

    And on they trekked. Taking short breaks and making good time until the hazy orange glow beckoned the dawn of a new morning like a beacon. The cohort of pathfinders huddled under the natural dell at the base of a banyan tree, using the wispy tendril fronds to mask their presence. 

    But all was not right. 

    Claudia noticed some of the pathfinders looking around nervously and the blond pathfinder with the shaved head, had a worried exchange of words with Lieutenant Einar. Claudia gulped down more of water and gave her canteen a shake. Nearly empty. She crawled over to Einar. He must have noticed the worried look on her face and he leaned in close to her ear.

     “A runner from the other pathfinder was supposed to meet us here but they are late,” he whispered. “Don’t stress, lass. Get some shut-eye if you can and we’ll sort things out.”

    The big man tried to give her a reassuring smile but it didn’t improve the pang of fear welling inside her heart. She looked over at Soren but her brother was already fast asleep with his back against the trunk of the banyan tree. She leaned against her brother’s shoulder, closed her eyes, and before she could think sleep took her.

*** * * ***

Claudia woke up to the sound of screaming. She instinctively unholstered her dagger from her chest webbing, lashing it outwards in an arc.

     “Soren?” she whispered harshly, but her brother was gone.

    She looked for any sign of the pathfinders but everyone was gone. In the faint distance she could hear the din and clashing of swords. Men and elves were screaming over one another in a pitched battle. She crawled up with her elbows to the edge of the tree’s root bed and witnessed the frenetic scene unfold before as if time had slowed. Pathfinders clashed with swords and martial artistry against double the number of Sunfire elves clad in heavy battle armour. Soren was mixed in the fray, deftly blocking the blows of two elven marauders. She rose to her feet and began to run into the clearing towards her brother but she tripped over a pathfinder lying facedown in the field, the source of the scream.

    The fall likely saved her life as she felt the angry buzz of an arrow shaving the light hairs off the back of her neck. Back into the tree line close to their camp, she spotted the kneeling figure of a Sunfire elf draw another arrow from her quiver, nock it, then the whites of the elf’s eyes disappeared as she took aim. Claudia rolled, narrowly avoiding an arrow aimed at her head. She sprinted at full speed at the elf, her dagger whipping the air as she swung her arms. The elf’s eyes went wide with panic at the brazen speed of her foe and she hurriedly nocked another arrow but Claudia dove at her, screaming with fury as she gouged out thick chunks of leather from the elf’s gloved hands.

    The elf tossed aside her bow and rolled backwards, kicking out with her leg and launching Claudia over top of her. Claudia somersaulted and flailed into a thick grove of bracken, scraping her face with thorns but also absorbing the blow and avoiding a nasty head injury. The elf unsheathed a short blade from its holster and howled with a rage as she charged. The elf made a clumsy overhand swing of her short sword narrowing missing Claudia’s left arm. Claudia lashed out with a defensive figure-eight sweep of her blade, catching unprotected parts between the elf’s gloves and bracers. The elf screamed in pain and parried with a darting thrust towards Claudia’s kidney’s but the human was much more proficient at knife work and, realizing the obvious feint, deflected the elf’s blade in a metallic ringing of sparks. Seizing the opening, the stronger human grabbed the elf’s thin wrist, hauling the writhing creature momentarily off its feet then used the elf’s own weight to make a swift and final blow with her blade. The elf collapsed to the ground in a heap.

    Claudia kicked over the lifeless body, cringing at the crumpled creature's still open eyes, lavender coloured irises wide with terror and pleading. She turned around to view the clearing just as another pathfinder soldier fell lifelessly to the ground. Einar was using his sheer strength to hold back three elves, but they were moving around to strike at his exposed back. Soren was holding his own but he was beginning to tire. Another pathfinder fell with a shrieking cry, it was the blond veteran who had harassed her brother the previous evening. Her bright eyes filled with tears just as she caught sight Claudia, her sword glinted in the morning sun as it fell from her hand.

    Claudia knew what she had to do to stem the brutal scene. She ran back to her rucksack, unbuckled the top flap and tore through her equipment to grab the Dark Magic spell components she sequestered. She sprinted back into the open field, twirling the dagger around in her right hand while gripping a handful of wasp thoraxes in the other.

    Seeing Claudia enter the fray, a muscular elf broke his battle with Einar and charged at the new target. Claudia closed her eyes, tapping into the abundant energy radiating inside Xadian lands and loosening a tiny piece of her own soul to catalyze the spell forming inside her hand. She crushed the hornet thoraxes in her palm, feeling the trickle of its juices flow between her fingers and the tickling power coursing up her arm into the whirling nova of magical power she was channeling into reality. She opened her eyes, seeing the world slowed down and tinged with an ethereal cyan hue. She saw the powerfully built elf swung his glittering sword over his head, his mouth open wide in a roar, eyes full of hate.

    “ _Sreggad suonosiop gnitrad!_ ” she incanted, and a vicious green bolt of energy darted from her palm into the heart of the charging elf and he collapsed like a stringless marionette. 

    The power of the energy inside her hand excited Claudia, lapping and scorching the edges of her self-control with the rancid tongue of insanity. The Elves cried out in fury at the sight of abominable Dark Magic tainting their home lands. Some of them broke from their martial engagement to specifically target her, but any and all who charged the mage met the same fate. She laughed at the maniacal thrill of it, losing herself with every existential burst from her palm.

    Soren unleashed a powerful, spinning back-kick at his target sending the elf cartwheeling backwards just as Claudia struck the flailing elf in its pelvis, and the creature howled as its legs rag-dolled underneath him. Einar, looked behind him to see what was causing the distraction and his eyes went wide watching as Claudia fired bolt after bolt at the hapless elves. He disengaged from his targets and raced back to Claudia, waving his arms to get her attention. Einar did not notice an elf bowman in the distance targeting his back.

    A thin arrow pierced his light cape and soft armour. The sound it made was hollow and wet. Seeing the big man fall to his knees broke Claudia’s concentration. She wiped used hornet guts on her chest guard and ran over to brace the man before he fell backwards onto the arrow. He was incredibly heavy and Claudia could only barely ease him over to one side.

    He coughed, “what was the one thing you weren’t supposed to do here, mage?”

    Claudia’s face was pained, but she still felt the sparkling exhilaration from her spell and couldn’t fully understand what the Lieutenant was asking her.

    She shook her head saying, “call you sir?”

    “No,” he spat, “what did General Amaya say you were never to do in Xadia?”

    She remembered and the reality of her actions dribbled down her spine like molten lead. “Use dark magic,” she said, her voice breaking.

    “Congratulations, child of Viren. You may have just sparked a full blown war.” The man grunted and wheezed as he struggled to move his legs beneath his frame in order to sit upright. The man reached behind his back, cringing as he broke off an arrow shaft.

    “I-I can heal you,” Claudia offered, as tears welled up in her eyes.

    The man winced, holding up a hand, “No. No more dark magic, dry your tears and help me to my feet.”

    The young mage pulled the big man’s arm over her shoulder and they both grunted as she deadlifted the towering man on to his feet, taking as much weight as she could. As they hobbled back into their enclave, the sustained staccato clang of sword on sword began to lessen as elves and humans broke off their attacks and retreated back into their respective enclaves. Soren ran over and placed the Lieutenant's arm over his shoulder, carrying some of the burden.

    “You two can’t stay here,” croaked Einar, as Claudia and Soren carefully put him down, “they’ll be back with reinforcements.”

    “We won’t leave you behind,” said Soren.

    “You must,” he replied, grabbing the former knight by his collar, “whatever your Dad is up to in Xadia spells trouble for all of us. We’ll prepare a response for the vermin who attacked us in our sleep.”

    Einar pushed a worn map into Soren’s hands.

    “Follow this map north for two days, you’ll find your target in that area. Stick to cover, move only at night. Whatever you do, stay out of the forests, there are creatures in there far worse than elves. The map has the locations of hideouts with supplies. If you need to get out of Xadia, stay at any hideouts and a pathfinder will bring you back within a week.”

    He tried to smile but his steel blue eyes revealed only pain as they darted between Claudia and Soren.

    “Guard that map with your life. Good luck, Claudia and Soren.”

    The only thing Claudia wanted to do was apologize. She harboured intense guilt for all the mistakes she made and continued to make. Instead, she gave Einar a hug, careful not to aggravate his injuries. The big man patted her on the back and put a massive hand on the side of her face.

    “We’ll be all right, kiddo. Now, run!” the big man said too loudly, and his body responded with a fit of coughs.

*** * * ***

The pair dashed out of the dell, leaving their temporary family of pathfinders behind them. They kept off worn trails and crouched along low shrubs, stopping at midday when they found the first hideout. In a tight copse of bramble and lichen, Soren and Claudia wolfed down a meal of dried bread and a few rolled bars of dense fruit and nuts. They refilled their canteens with a supply of stale water and for a moment, Claudia thought about preparing a serving of hot brown morning potion but she was far too exhausted. Soren had offered to take first watch which she gladly accepted.

    She pulled out her bedroll from her pack, unfurled it, then noticed tiny circular pats of liquid dripping on the sheet. She peered up at the roof of the shelter to locate the source of the fluid when her vision blurred. It was coming from her own eyes. She reached up to her face and laughed at first as she wiped away tears, unsure of why she was crying. Then she saw the face of the elf she had stuck down that morning. The stark terror in those eyes, her pleading. She wondered if she had a family.

    A branch snap outside their hideout made her instinctively release the catch on her dagger's sheath.

    “Claudia,” Soren whispered nervously, “are you okay?”

    "Y-yeah," she said, choking down a sob, "I'm fine. Going to bed now."

    "Before you do that, come outside for a minute," her brother said.

    She crawled under the low branches of the dense hideaway. Soren beckoned her to follow him, and he led her a short distance towards the edge of a cliff face. He pulled his cape over his face to conceal himself and pointed into the valley below.

    “What is it, Soren?”

    “Do you think we’re on the right track?”

    Claudia gasped. Right smack in the middle of the ruddy Xadian landscape was a gigantic and perfectly round blight on the land. It looked like a gigantic bruise, the colour of dark blue with yellowing around its edges. Even from this distance, Claudia could smell the reek of death.

    Now there was no doubt in her mind, their father was close.


	13. Xadian Idol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having discovered the fate of her parents, Rayla, Callum and Nivin must determine their next steps. Rayla discovers a hidden talent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mild body horror imagery.

Like the half-remembered trace of a nightmare, Callum couldn’t shake the image of the strange wizard’s face. Whenever he'd close his eyes he'd see the unfocused, indigo visage of the elf-like creature riding a dragon as blue as the sea. The creature’s face tricked his mind and when viewed at different angles, Callum would see him take a different form. One side of the creature looked almost human, but from another angle he looked like an elf. A vexing impulse inside Callum wanted to believe that a deeper, honest angle of the chimeric creature contained an image of himself.

    Callum shook away the images as he looked at the resting face of his training master lying motionless in his bed. The old elf’s face was ashen and pale from the exertion of bringing him back from the spirit world. Guilt streamed through Callum’s mind, as he ruminated on how he had pushed his master into bringing he and his colleagues through the dangerous dimension of death. 

    All morning, Callum had cast one healing spell after another over the elf’s sleeping form. The crackling energies blazed into corporeal existance as the young mage poured all of his willpower and guilt into every spell. The mystical runes blazed not with brightness but with an incandescent quality beyond the mortal realm of imagining as if torn from a distant universe. 

     Once more, Callum bellowed the draconic words of power, “ _Medeor Corporis_!” 

    Whirling motes of purple lights burst from the rune and floated delicately over Zelmai’s body. The motes pulled themselves into the elf’s motionless form, and for a moment, the colour of his skin changed from a pale grey into the vibrant mahogany that Callum remembered of his master in healthier days. For a moment, their minds joined as one as Callum forced opened the door of his mind to force Zelmai’s pain to succour through him like a conduit into the nether. Though physical pain was there, the emotional pain was melancholic, like an unexplainable sadness on a sunny day. Callum used that brief moment in time to bridge his mind with his patient.

    “ _Zelmai, it’s Callum… tell me how to fix you. We need you._ ” He pleaded using his inner voice and - when the psychic connection was made - he could hear it echo through the mental tunnel. But silence was his only reply.

    There was a sudden flash at the forefront of Callum’s mind. It was the visage of the strange wizard from his nightmare, its face contorted and bruised. One side of its face snarled with fury while the other grinned with gleeful malice. It tortured Callum’s mind to witness the baleful image and though he tried wake himself up from this waking dream, he discovered the wizard had latched on to his mental tunnel using its writhing tendrils of magic like barbs of a hookworm. Panic coursed through the young mage’s chest with the sudden realization that this was not a vision from his own subconscious, this was a very real and powerful mind forcing its will into Callum’s soul. The strange wizard laughed at Callum’s fear, feeding off it. The creature reached inside a gnarled claw inside Callum's own thoughts and he could smell the pungent stink of death under its fingernails.

     Callum screamed at the touch of someone behind him.

    “Sorry!” said Rayla, snapping back her hand.

    Callum heart pounded as realized he was back in the brightness of Zelmai’s room. The morning breeze filled the room and he could smell freshly baked jelly rolls.

    “You were moaning there and your face is all sweaty,” Rayla said in a dour voice, softly looking into his eyes while gently wiping away the sweat off of his brow. She perked up and said, “oh, the baker brought us some breakfast rolls!”

    She handed him a crisp pastry, still fixing him with a look of concern. Callum took a bite from the warm jelly roll and tried to smile but his exhaustion betrayed him. Placing the pastry down, he turned to look back at Zelmai for any sign of improvement. Though the colour of his skin had returned to normal, he knew it was a matter of time before it resumed the lacklustre sheen of grey. He exhaled softly.

    “He’s not getting any better is he?” Rayla asked.

    “No better and no worse. It’s like he doesn’t want to come back.”

    Rayla slid her arms around Callum’s stomach, resting her chin on the nook of his neck. She sighed and Callum could smell the sweet scent of moonberry jelly on her breath. He folded his fingers into her hands, welcoming the comfort of her embrace. He realized just how tired he as he tried to stifle a wide yawn.

    Rayla turned her boyfriend around to face her. “You’ve done all you can for him,” she said, “if he wants to wake up, he will. But if you keep up this pace, you’ll collapse too!”

    He stretched, feeling his aching muscles stretch and his joints pop.

    “I know and I will. But whenever I reach into his mind it’s like something or someone else is in there… like its keeping me from reaching him. I need to find out if that could be what is holding him back.” Callum paused, rubbing his back. “How is our other patient doing?”

    Rayla shook her head, “we talked a bit this mornin' but last I checked he's snoring away on the couch. He asked me to make him a fire even though it’s hotter than dragon’s breath outside.”

    “Okay, we need a plan,” said Callum, “with or without Zelmai we need to figure out how we are going to rescue his Dad and your parents.”

    Rayla nodded, pursing her lips and eyes looking down. Without Zelmai, they had no idea where to even begin their search. But even with Zelmai, life and death magics were the domain moonshadow elves and Rayla was anything but a mage.

    “Let’s go wake Nivin," she said.

Rayla was right, it was hotter than a river of lava down in the living room. Nivin was awake and sitting up on the couch, his chestnut coloured eyes were sunken and puffy and he had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He looked up at Callum through arched eyebrows and the human thought he sensed a simmering scowl underneath his glance. For whatever reason, the spirit realm grants its visitors the ability feel emotions and thoughts of everyone around them. Peering into Nivin’s heart like it was his own, Callum felt like he could trust the Sunfire elf, though Callum wasn’t certain Nivin felt the same way about him. It would take opening himself up to gain his trust.

    “How are you feelin’, Nivin?” asked Rayla, as she and Callum came down the stairs.

    “Much better, thank you,” said Nivin, closing his eyes, “and thank you Fen… that is, Callum for helping me recover. To see a human wield primal magic is a remarkable sight to behold.”

    Callum pulled at the corners of his mouth. He nodded and sat across the elf on one of Zelmai’s plush high-backed chairs. Rayla sat on the other end of the couch from Nivin.

    “My Dad used to say, ‘ _if you can help someone, do it_ ’,” Callum said, smiling in earnest as he recalled his step-father’s advice. 

    Nivin turned his head sharply as if caught off-guard, he turned back, fixing Callum with a hard gaze then opened his mouth about to speak but it was Rayla who spoke first.

    “Nivin,” she began, “we need your help. Zelmai mentioned to me a few months ago about a magi council. I know nothin’ of magic, and Callum is only just learnin’ but I was wonderin’ if you knew who they are and if they could help us find our parents?”

    Nivin pursed his lips and shook his head, “wait, we need to clear up some things first.”

The Sunfire elf cleared his throat, giving his next words extra emphasis.

    “Rayla and I had much to talk about this morning. Many things to say about her…” he paused and fixed his unblinking gaze at Callum, “betrothed. She also mentioned that you come to our homelands to learn of our magic?”

    Rayla glanced at Callum biting her bottom lip. He knew he would have to come clean about their relationship eventually but swatting away one lie at a time was all he could handle in this moment. He nodded at Nivin, “yes that’s right.”

    “And that’s the only reason?” asked Nivin.

    “That and try to stop the war between our people.”

    “How exactly will learning primal magic stop a war?” Nivin made a sardonic chuckle, “why not just stay home and learn your human Dark Magic?”

    Callum was unsure if he was being baited but he refused to bite. "Because Dark Magic is what brought Xadia and humans to the brink of war in the first place. Because I refuse to use magic that only takes and never replaces."

The young mage paused to collect his thoughts.

    “I am only one person but if can show Xadia that humans are capable of embracing their magic, maybe it will start the conversation about all the similarities between our people, Nivin. But we have to start talking.”

    Nivin exhaled sharply, his eyes narrowed and he said, “I saw inside your mind, Callum. My heart would tell me you wish us no ill intentions and I would like to believe it but understand that I am the protector of this village and you lied to me.”

    “Because I’d be killed on sight, in fact you did attack me,” Callum replied as calmly as the adrenaline coursing through his veins would allow.

    The tall elf scoffed, “again you lie. You cannot honestly tell me you wouldn’t have done the exact same thing if I had gained your trust and friendship presenting as a human - in your own home - then suddenly turned into an elf?

    Nivin turned to face, Rayla, “Not to mention tricking me into taking an oath of bond-ship under false pretences. You _do_ know that nullifies the bond, don’t you?”

    “Yer, right, Nivin,” Rayla said, raising her voice sharply, “every person in this house broke the rules. So you gonna to turn us in to the authorities or wha’?”

    “I _am_ the authority in this town, Rayla.” Nivin said, with an immoderate chuckle, “and no, no I will not. I would be a monster if I did such a thing. Zelmai now suffers from the strain I put on him by bringing me into that dreadful realm. His injury is the heavy cost of knowing that our parents did not dishonour their oath and abandon the Dragon Guard. ”

     Rayla shivered. “Held captive by a crazy thin man and a blue wizard…” she added.

     All three cast their eyes down at the floor. Callum struggled to put into words what he saw in the spirit realm because most of his recollection was dreamlike and unfocused but he had tried to describe it as best as he could. He talked about the blue wizard pouring souls into the ballroom. Rayla described the thin wizard who nearly killed her and held her father captive in a coin. Nivin was certain the shade he hugged in the ballroom was his father and Rayla was sure she saw Runaan there too thought she be completely sure third shade was her mother. 

    “Nivin, do you think the blue wizard we saw was Aaravos?” asked Callum.

    “I don’t know,” replied Nivin, “they way you describe him certainly fits his description from lore but to me he looked more human than elf.”

    Callum chewed on his thumbnail thinking back to his vision when he reached into Zelmai’s mind. He jumoped as the Sunfire elf leapt up from the couch. Nivin snapped his fingers, giving Callum a wan smile.

    “I know how to repay you. I may not be able to get you an audience with the magi council, but it just so happens that I know a member of the local magi chapter.”

    Rayla jumped up holding out her hands. “Great!” she said, “who?”

    “My mother,” sighed Nivin.

** * * * * **

It was agreed the  three of them had to present their case together to Nivin’s mother. It was ruled out that Callum would present himself as a human because his mother was, as Nivin put it, “hardcore anti-human”. The challenge would be how he was going to change into his elven-Callum form.

    “I’m certain I can do it,” Callum said, “the hard part is going to be channeling my healing spell at the same time that I’m pulling apart my fascial muscles, bones and skin. I’d probably pass out from agony.”

    “I know an old bard hymn that has healing properties,” Nivin said, “I bet if I teach Rayla the chorus we could combine our song to manage your pain levels until you were finished, then you could resume channeling your heal spell.”

    Callum rubbed the day-old stubble on his chin, pondering the plan. 

    “Yes, that could work. Rayla, are you up for it?”

    Rayla grimaced, her cheeks turning red as her eyes darted between Callum and Nivin, “I dunno, guys. I’m terrible at singin’.”

    Nivin laughed, “oh, c’mon. Who told you that?”

    “Runaan. Myself. Every moonshadow elf who ever heard me sing.”

    Nivin grinned, “it’s not about holding a tune so much as the conviction in your heart. I’ll teach you the lyrics and the string steps and we’ll work on your pitch later.”

    For the rest of the morning, Nivin and Rayla practiced the Sunfire healing hymn while Callum went up to check on his Sunfire teacher. Zelmai’s was breathing better and his heart rate was stronger but as Callum predicted, his skin had begun turning an ashen grey. Callum thought about how extreme heat helped Nivin recover, so he stoked a small fire in the old elf’s bedroom fireplace. 

    Callum heard a pensive, lilting voice from out the bedroom window. He stepped to the sill and saw Rayla, closing her eyes and repeating Nivin’s lyrics in the call and answer style of bardic lessons. Rayla’s was muffled and cracked as if she was holding back; Nivin as teacher would repeat the same line over and over until Rayla matched his words with conviction. Rayla wasn’t as bad as she said, but she wasn’t pitch perfect either. Still, Callum felt his heart lift with every held note of her voice, and when he closed his eyes her song felt like waves gently lapping at his feet as he walked along a warm, sandy beach. 

     After several false starts and rehearsals, the young team felt that they were ready to put their plan into action. Callum had setup a mirror in the middle of Zelmai’s garden so he could manipulate his own face into elven form. Rayla and Nivin stood ready with their bardic strings. Nivin struck his string with his bardic sword, counting them in.

    Nivin sang first, his tenor voice was confident and vibrotic. Rayla repeated his line, her voice trembling and tight. After each stanza, the two bards shifted into a new physical stance, striking their magically imbued strings that held onto each note. 

    The very next verse of the song would be when Callum would begin his transformation. He closed his eyes. 

Rayla and Nivin sang their next verse in unison:

    “ _What late evening brings hither?_  
_Hurling dark clouds from the ether._  
_No elf questions the sun foretelling the tiding of times,_  
_The sky has prophesied, like invisible chimes._ ”

    Callum felt his heartbeat slow and beat to the cadence of the music like it no longer belonged to him. The song’s power filled his ears, flowing through his mind and into his hands, chest and face making them tingle and turn numb. Keeping his eyes screwed tight, he visualized the rune inside his head and pushed it out with his palm, willing it existence rather than writing it. When he opened his eyes a dazzlingly bright flash of orange light burst from his eye-sockets as his transformation spell began to catalyze.

    Rayla was beginning to find confidence in her own voice. Though comparatively timid next to the overpowering and over-confident quality of Nivin’s voice, the two continued the next verse of their hymn:

    “O’ Xadia unite! like wind-spun thunder, _  
The strength of ocean and earth asunder.  
    Burning bright our hearts alight._ _  
Hear all voices with wild wonder,_ _  
_O’ Xadia, Xadia, unite, unite!__ ”

    Callum pulled at the corners of his ears, cringing when he heard the brittle cartilage crackle and snap as he shaped the tips of his ears to match Rayla’s. Though he felt the skin tear and bleed, he felt no pain and the tiny wounds healed instantly owing to the quality of the bards’ song. He massaged his cheekbones to move them higher up on his face. The denser material of bone was not as pliable as cartilage and felt more like a cold clay in his fingertips but with coaxing it gave way with an uncomfortable creaking sound. The next step looked more horrible than it actually felt; Callum twisted his ring fingers like uncorking a wine bottle; they took on the appearance of stretched taffy. Eventually both fingers came off with a grotesque pop and he manipulated the remaining tissue into perfectly passible, four-fingered, elf hands. 

    Nivin mistakenly caught a glimpse of the malformed human inflicting deformities onto his own face and hands. He gagged, then stumbled over the next line.

    “However dark the… eastern… no, um, western-wars,” Nivin said, choking down bile.

     The pain felt like someone shoved two icy daggers into his skull just as Callum had just started pulling out keratinized tissue from his head. He cried out as the screaming nerves became instantly aware of the grievously fresh wounds inflicted on his face, hands and the top of his head. The world began to spin as the agony of his wounds overwhelmed all senses. He struggled against the pain as his brain forced unconsciousness against his will. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and the world grew dark.

Suddenly, with a voice as silvery and bright as the full moon, Rayla’s voice rang out the last stanza:

  _“However dark the westward schemes,_  
_Star-chambered insurrection, treasons unseen._  
_Simple fortunes knock on moon’s crescent door_  
_The last groundswell of uncivil war._  
_We fight, we fight,_  
_O’ Xadia we fight!”_

    Callum sprung to his feet, the pain immediately wrung free from his nerves. He wanted to cry at hearing the pure, heart-felt beauty of Rayla’s new found voice but he had to finish the spell before the song was complete. He twisted his keratinized horns giving them the appearance of having verdigris-like streaks. He checked the mirror, making final adjustments to his face, then he began to channel his own healing spell just as Nivin rejoined Rayla to finish their song.

_"Blighted wrongs now set right,_  
_Our hearts for Xadia outlast the night._  
_We fight, we fight,_  
_O’ Xadia, we fight!”_

    As their song faded, Callum collapsed on all fours. His face was wet with sweat and he felt his limbs tremble from physical exhaustion but his healing spell held.

    Rayla dropped her bardic instruments and bounded up to Callum with a pained look in her eyes. She reached down placing her palms on the sides of his face. He looked up and smiled. Seeing he was okay, Rayla kissed his forehead and cheeks over and over. His face was still tender but he never stopped Rayla’s spontaneous outbursts of affection before and he wasn’t about to now after the torture he put himself through.

    “You were amazin’!” she said laughing.

    “I’m amazing?” he blurted, sitting back on his knees, “Rayla, you have the most incredible voice I’ve ever heard.”

    Rayla blushed, turning her head, “oh, psh-aw. You have to say that cause I’m yer girlfriend.”

    Nivin walked up, red faced and holding his arm abashedly, “I’m sorry, for stumbling back there. Thank you for taking over the song for me, Rayla.”

    Rayla looked like she was about to cry. She sniffed hard and looked up at the sky as the mid-afternoon sun began to creep ever lower. 

    “Daylight’s burnin’,” she said changing the subject while wiping a tear, “let’s go see Nivin's mum.”

    “Right,” said Nivin, turning towards the garden gate, “let’s us all make haste fellow elves!”

    The tall elf’s confidence returned as he began to sing a jaunty bardic tune of haste. Callum grabbed Rayla’s hand and she made a pensive smile. He kissed her hand, then swung it in time to Nivin’s song. 

    “You’re such a goof!” she giggled.

    “This goof has never been more proud of you, Rayla. I don’t think I can ever say that enough.”

    “Thank you, Callum. It means a lot to hear you say things like that.”

    “You could sing a little louder though,” he smirked, “everyone loves a loud bard.”


	14. Necrotic Denizens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claudia and Soren are ambushed by denizens of their father's Necromatic machinations. Forced to make a difficult choice will they choose a safer path or risk it all in the woods?

**Claudia and Soren**

Claudia woke up after sleeping the day away. The pathfinder hideout was tucked deep in the shallows of a damp marsh, surrounded by still waters. Another day of hard rations and tepid water. Another day of hiding from elven patrols.

    As they moved further north, they found an increasing number of tarry circles buzzing with fat, drunken insects that got caught-up in their hair and mouths. Whatever their father was up to, he didn't seem to care that he left behind a blighted trail of disease throughout Xadia.

    Soren had already filled her canteen and was munching away at a dried fig bar. He tried to smile at his sister but could only manage a miserable grimace. He stretched and rubbed his back.

    "Heya, Sor-Sor," she said, "how's your back this morning?"

    "It's fine. Nothing to worry about," he lied, "you were talking in your sleep last night."

    "Oh?" She asked, removing wax-paper from a package of dried beef, "what did I say?"

    "Something like, 'Caaa-llum, I'm over here! Don't leeeeave me, Callum'."

    Claudia's cheeks turned red as a boiled tomato. Occasionally her thoughts went to her childhood friend. She occasionally wondered where he was what kind of life he was living. Last she heard was that he had run off to live with that elf girl.

_What was her name? Riley? Layra? Ugh, who cares._

    Claudia's life has been so hectic she hadn't given much thought to things other than her father and Soren. Was her subconscious trying to tell her something?

    "Still got a thing for the step-prince, huh?" Soren said.

    "Pshh, no," she scoffed, as she tried biting through a tough piece of dried beef. "Who cares? But...um, did I say anything else?"

    "Nope. Just sad mumble moaning, mostly."

    She sighed, shoving away the distraction as she rolled up her ground sheet. She packed the rest of her equipment and checked the blade of her dagger. Now more than ever it brought her familiar comfort. 

    The sun was practically behind the horizon now, washing the sky with a hazy pink glow. The sound of crickets began to chirp, a sound Claudia associated with the start of her new day.

    Soren exhaled deeply, tossing his backpack over his shoulders with a noticeable grunt, a grunt their Dad used to make. She worried the Dark Magic spell that kept his spinal nerves intact was beginning to lose its efficacy. She shook it off, something to deal with another day.

    The former knight broke the trail a few paces ahead of his sister, that way if they were ambushed, Claudia would surprise any elf with her dagger or if need be, a Dark Magic spell. Since Claudia already opened that pandora's box using Dark Magic to save the pathfinder team, they decided that it came down to life or death, Dark Magic was back on the table.

    Within the hour, a breeze carried the sickly sweet stink of decay, the telltale sign of their father. Claudia kept to a low crouch behind her brother, pushing aside exotic looking bulrushes with jagged leaves that tugged at her pant legs and scratched at her face. 

    When they had at last left the marshland, they found themselves in a wide open clearing that stretched in every direction. Soren halted, his mouth twisted into a look of concern. He pulled out Einar's map, and studied it.

    When Claudia couldn't stand the silence any further, she asked, "what's up?"

    Soren pointed up at the sky. "It's almost a full moon behind those clouds and there's no cover in this field. If the moon comes out and we're caught out there, anyone can see us."

    Claudia scanned the horizon. She knew that elves had incredible vision and even with her human eyes, she could see clear across the field ahead.

    "According to this map there's a forest to the east, I think we should make our way along the bulrushes towards that direction."  
    "What's to the west?"  
    "More open field."  
    "I dunno, Sor. Didn't Einar say we should avoid the forests?"  
    "Oh. Right. Well, it would be faster if we kept heading north but it'll be risky."

    Claudia exhaled letting her lips vibrate. She left this adventuring business up to her brother and if she had her spell-book, she might be able to conjure up an invisibility aura. She looked off to the east, seeing only the rough, blue outline of a forest canopy poking over the horizon and rubbing the sky. The open field to the north looked clear, and the cloud cover was thick as far as she could tell.

    "I say we take our chances going north and stay out of the forests as much as we can."

    "Okay," nodded Soren, "I'll lead."

    The short dry grasses crunched under the soles of their leather boots as the two siblings crouched low through the open field. Soren's head swiveled, watching for any sign of movement in the tarry black night. The moon would occasionally poke out behind thin clouds and he would slowly lay himself flat on the ground so as not to make any quick motion that might attract attention. Claudia mirrored his movements.

    At the center of the field, they began to pick up the cloying scent of rot. The soil under Claudia's feet felt sticky, and the buzzing sound of flies grew louder. They were walking in the middle of their Dad's rotten death-circles.

    Soren suddenly stopped so fast, Claudia nearly ran into him. He was straining to look at something dead ahead.

    "What? What do you see?" she whispered.

    Soren only shook his head. Claudia stared over her brother's shoulder, seeing for the first time what caught her brother's attention. A few hundred yards in front of them were three humanoid shapes making rough, jagged movements. Soren slowly lowered his frame into the rotten soil and Claudia groaned as she followed his movements. Being this close to the rotten soil was unbearable, and she had to swallow hard to keep from vomiting.

    Claudia plugged her nose with her fingers. "Are they elves?" She asked nasally.

    He shook his head. "They look human, but see how they're moving so jaggedly? I don't like this. Let's head west and get out of this disgusting cesspool."

    Claudia could not agree more and the pair crawled on their bellies away from the strange, shuffling creatures. The incessant buzzing of flies was maddening. Soren spat out the fat bugs and Claudia was continuously swatting away the vexing insects. Viscous goo coated the ground and sucked at their hands and knees, making loud slurping sounds. Claudia heard one of the creatures make an inhuman growl and as she turned, she saw a number of the creatures turned their heads curiously towards them.

    She tugged her brother's cape, motioning silently behind them. As Soren turned, a look of panic washed over his face and he jumped to his feet.

    "They spotted us! Run!" he said.

    Claudia tried to get to her feet, but the slick quagmire slipped under her boots and she fell face first, swallowing a mouthful of the slimy mud. She never tasted anything more vile in her life and she threw up her stomach contents.

    Soren was beside her, lifting her on to her feet by her shoulders. He held on to her arm as they raced to the west and safety of the forest.

    Claudia heard the heavy breathing of creatures behind them, racing over the viscous earth with inhuman speed. Their ragged and hollow voices had an almost giddy, chortling quality to them.

    When at last they had escaped the circle of flies and stench, Soren turned, dropping his backpack and pushing his sister behind him as he drew his long-sword from its scabbard. He held it out just as the creatures were nearly on top of them. Claudia dropped her own backpack and unsheathed her dagger, moving behind her brother to cover his rear arc.  
  


  Two creatures darted forward with lightning alacrity. As they charged, Claudia could make out their twisted visage, skin flayed and eyes burning with a green glow.

    They were armed with rusted weapons; the one that came for Claudia wielded hefted a massive two-handed weapon and bore Evenere's tattered tabard on its ragged chest. Soren's attacker bore a gladius and wooden shield bearing the royal crest of Del Bar. 

     Claudia let her attacker charge forward holding its massive blade overhead. The dark mage dropped low then somersaulted forward thrusting her wickedly sharp blade up with all her might as the surprised attacker misjudged its attack. Meat and sinew tore from its wrist to its elbow, and the creature released its grip on its weapon. There was no blood, only thick brackish viscera reeking of rotten meat. Claudia knew at once these were undead creatures, the spawn of their father's necrotic machinations.

    Soren parried away vicious swings and blows from his attacker's weapons. These were no ordinary undead; there was strategy and cunning behind their attacks. Thankfully, their weapons were as decrepit as their bodies as Soren discovered when he parried another swing and the creature's brittle blade snapped in two. 

    Claudia's attacker attempted to unsheathe a short sword with its remaining arm but the nimble mage was quicker with a dagger. With a flick of her wrist, she launched the weapon and with a satisfying crunch, it found its mark inside one the creature's glowing eyes. The undead thing dropped to its armoured knees and Claudia charged at it, raising one knee to jam the butt of her dagger further into the creature's eye socket. Its dry skull shattered into a dozen bony pieces.

   Soren's attacker was using it's shield to bash the knight away from his sister. The magic imbuing these miserable creatures with life also enhanced their strength. Soren missed a swing, thrusting down and away and the undead soldier capitalized at the opening, striking Soren's unprotected head with it's shield. Soren went down hard, his head swimming with stars. He shook off the blow in time to look up just as the creature lifted it's shield above it's disfigured head. A grim look came over its glowing eyes as it froze in place. A thin whine escaped its mouth and with a thud, it collapsed into a desiccated heap of bones.

    Soren saw Claudia breathing furiously, her mouth twisted in fury with her blackened blade still thrust forward.

     They were both panting as the adrenaline off. Soren frowned, scanning the horizon. That battle was so loud and would surely attract attention. But also...

     _Weren't there three attackers?_

    Claudia let out a deep breath and made a smug smile, "that's another one you owe me, Soren. We're up to three n-UH!"

    Claudia's eyes went wide and a guttural cough escaped her mouth and her hands grasped her stomach as a wet pool of blood quickly encircled the tip of a rusted blade poking through the front of her armour.

    Soren cried out watching his sister collapse and seeing for the first time the malevolent grin of her attacker. He charged forward, holding out his long sword with two hands, but the rotting creature dodged it nimbly. It brought its own sword downwards, knocking Soren's blade off to the side, then counter attacked with a vicious slash across the knight's chest. The padded armour turned the rusty, blood-dulled blade easily but the strength of the attack knocked the wind out of him. The undead soldier spun deftly, using its bony hip to knock Soren off of his footing and land on his back.

    "NOw... JoIN... yOuR fATH...eR!" The thing rasped through rotten vocal cords before it tossed its head back and howled so loud, sleeping birds took flight into the night. In the distance, Soren could hear other haunting howls answer in reply.

    Soren wasn't about to let his father's creation claim him. He butterfly kicked his legs, spinning back onto his feet and with the same motion he swung his blade at the creature's legs, connecting with rotten flesh and shattering its femur. The creature growled in anger, swinging its blade with furious but clumsy strokes. Soren riposted each blow, chopping more and more sinew from his attacker's rotten bones. With an anguish cry, he hacked off the creature's fingers, sending them flying into the night. The creature snarled at Soren, as two furious green lights burned deep from empty eye sockets. Soren snuffed out a light with a deadly thrust through its head and out the back of its skull. He kicked the now lifeless thing over.

    "Sor...en," Claudia moaned.

    He ran over to his sister and removed her padded armour, exposing the entry and exit wound. It was bad. He blinked away tears as he opened a first aid kit, applying a clotting agent. Twice she screamed into the night as the coagulant bubbled and fizzed. The bleeding stopped, and he began to wind the bandage around her torso before she stopped him, shaking her head.

    Her breathing was short and ragged and her face was so deathly pale. She opened her eyes moaning, "...oi...so..."

    "Poison?"

    She nodded.

    "How do I fix that?" He asked in a panic.

    She pointed weakly to her backpack.

    He raced to where his sister had dropped her pack. He brought it over, pouring out the contents around her shivering body.

    In the distance he heard the inhuman murmur of living corpses.

    He pulled out a mortal and pestle and the only items that he presumed were magical anti-venom reagents. He held them out for Claudia but her eyes were too unfocused.

     "Clauds! Stay with me, sis. Tell me what to do?!"

    "Gr... ind."

    "Grind them, grind all of them?"

    She nodded.

    Into the pestle, he placed dried flowers, a desiccated foot and some grasshoppers. As he crushed the ingredients with the mortar, Claudia's eyes rolled backwards. He slapped her cheeks and her eyes blinked open.

    "Ow, j-j..erk," she said weakly.

    "Stay with me! Okay everything is ground, what do I do next?"

    "Say... w... ords."

    Soren blinked.

_Did she mean a magical incantation? How am I supposed to remember that?_

    "Claudia, I can't..." he said. But her green eyes rolled back into her head and she let out a long gasp of air. He slapped her cheeks again, trying to get her to respond but her face was waxy and pale.

    "What were the words?" he said in a panic, "something about 'wounds' and 'bring life'."

    He closed his eyes, slowing his breathing. He grasped her clammy but still warm hands. He thought about losing Mom and Dad and now the only person in the world who he still for him. He felt her hand squeeze his and like a bolt, he remembered.  
    " _Sdnuow eseht ot efil gnirb!_ " he bellowed into the night.

    For Soren, in that moment, the inky night was replaced with a blue ethereal glow as the materials in the pestle soared high into the air, bursting into bright, shimmering lights that hovered down over Claudia's still body. A cluster of alighted reagents landed on her open wound as black poison oozed from the deep cut. Skin, sinew and organs began to knit themselves and Soren felt the strength of Claudia's grip in his hand strengthen. The light inside her stomach faded and her grip on his hand lessened. But there was no further sign of life.

    He turned his ear to her mouth listening for breathing.

    She gasped, sitting upright in a bolt and nearly knocking her brother over. She breathed over and over, clenching her stomach and looking around wildly. Soren wrapped his arms around his sister.

    "We're even!" He exclaimed through tears.

    She groggily got up to her feet. Soren tossed her things into her knapsack and helped it on to her back.

    "Can you walk?" he asked, fixing his own backpack on.

    She grabbed her still spinning head, "yeah."

    "How about run?"

    "Not a chance."

    Soren lifted his sister over his shoulders and began to run east towards the forest. The brightness of the Dark Magic spell was bound to attract attention.

    Facing backwards, Claudia could see two groups of separate attackers following them. One moved with the jagged, inhuman speed of their previous attackers. The other group sprinted with the flowing grace of elves.

    Soren was huffing heavily, but they were only just a few yards away from the forest and safety. Claudia began to see trees close in around them as the two groups of pursuers met and began to attack each other.

    On and on Soren ran, deeper into the forest. Trees and leaves getting even thicker until at last they could no longer see the open field. Soren collapsed and Claudia tumbled off his shoulders. They both lay on the soft forest floor, faces up, heads spinning, sucking in the still air.

    Claudia sat up, wincing at her still tender abdominal muscles.

    "You okay, Sore?"

     But Soren didn't respond. She could barely make out his face in the pitch black of the forest but she knew he would be suffering from the strange illness that all first-time Dark magic users get. It would take a day at least for him to recover.

    In the pure blackness of the forest, her eyes started playing tricks on her. She saw flashes of light, tiny embers floating in the distance. Shapes that she hoped her brain was putting together to make sense out of the black.

    She heard branches crack. Soft voices. She tossed her head around to try focus on the sound. It was all around.

    She whipped out her blade, making sharp movements. If attackers were there, she was hoping the tell-tale sound of a sharp blade cutting the air would discourage them.

    There was a sudden painful flash of light and Claudia screwed her eyes closed at the shocking brightness.

    "Who's there?!" she shouted. But she got only laughter as a reply.

    She forced open her eyes in the intense light, just making out the shape of a small human creature, standing upright on goat-like legs with skin as red as fire. It held out what looked like a tiny crossbow. It's angular, bearded face was grinning.

    "Drop the weapon, human," its high-pitched voice snarled with a heavily accented common language.

    "Who are you?"

    The creature answered by firing a tiny dart with a thin metal cord training it towards her chest armour. She felt a sharp barb prick her skin as it easily punctured through the cuirass. The creature chortled as it pushed the trigger, shooting painful arcs of lightning along the cord and coursing through her body.

    Claudia's vision narrowed and she passed out next to her brother.


	15. Falsetto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rayla, and Callum venture into the Bard hall to seek an audience with Nivin's sagely mother, Ishkalina. But Callum is utterly exhausted and can barely maintain his elven glamour spell.

  **Rayla**

The bard training hall had at one time been a natural rock formation which the elves had adapted to fit their purposes. Tall, natural pillars of rock jutted upwards forming the sides of the entranceway and a leafy canopy of vines formed the roof. An ethereal sound filled the air made by unseen musicians whiling away on unknown instruments.

    Rayla was grateful for the corona of light filtering through the canopy of leaves as it meant Callum would not have to draw power from his own internal reserves. He had not slept in two days and maintaining his elven-form was taking a physical toll. 

    Just prior to entering the bard training hall, Nivin explained how difficult his mother could be when it came to matters of magic and prophesy. She was ancient, even for an elf. She was known for playing her music for decades without break and only engaged in wordplay for sport.

    As the trio entered deeper into the guild hall, silvery notes of a harp filled Rayla’s mind with a sense of peace. Without thinking, she found her footsteps fall into time with the measured beat behind each plucked note.

    Rayla pushed aside a curtain of vines and saw the source of the music; a golden harp arranged in the middle of a dais played by the most majestic elf Rayla had ever seen. The Sunfire elf’s beauty was beyond mortal recognition; her mahogany skin glistened with an iridescent quality and her long braids of chestnut hair glimmered between threaded ribbons of yellow and purple. Her long, delicate fingers wisked across harp strings with a grace and purposefulness the likes of which Rayla had never seen before.

    She did not look up from her playing as the trio approached the dais. Nivin cleared his throat, “mother, can you spare a moment?”

    She continued to play her instrument, disinterested in her son’s question.

    Nivin took a few steps forward, placing a hand on his chestguard and gesturing with his other hand towards Callum and Rayla, “my friends herald news, mother. Portents from the spirit realm.”   

    The beautiful elf plucked even more strings.

    “…news of father.”

     She stopped playing, leaving a tuneless note hanging in the air. It left an uneasy feeling in Rayla’s mind.

    The beautiful elf turned her head towards her son, the corners of her mouth curled upwards into a smile, “my son, your father is forever lost to us and we are never to speak of him.”

    “Yes, I understand that but if you would just allow me to introduce them, they will explain…”

    The tall elven matriarch stood from the harp, tugging the frilled ends of her golden gown up with her. The glassy smile never left her porcelain face as she gave a nod towards the moonshadow elf assassin.

    “Rayla, we have met. And am I correct to assume that this is Fendyn your betrothed?”

    Rayla nodded nervously, “y-yes. We’ve been here visitin’ my uncle.”

    “I see,” came the curt reply, “and does your betrothed not have a tongue for which to speak?”

    Rayla’s heart began to race in her chest. She suddenly felt like an insect walking into a spider web.

    “I do,” Callum uttered, “and yes I am Fendyn. To whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?”

    The sagely elf covered a wide grin with her long fingers. She pulled at the sides of her lengthy dress and took a deep bow. 

    “Dear me, I had no idea the normally brusque Moonshadow elves were capable of such courtesy. I am Ishkalina, master bard of my village.”

    Callum forced a smile and said, “as Rayla mentioned, we are here visiting her uncle and it is only by accident we discovered the whereabouts of Nivin’s father.”

    Callum when on to explain how they ventured into the spirit realm and the discovery of both Nivin and Rayla’s parents. He described the thin wizard that assaulted Rayla and the blue skinned wizard who was collecting spirits. The one they had presumed was called Aaravos.

    Ishkalina listened to Callum’s retelling without any emotion, only offering a slight grimace at the mentioning of ‘Aaravos’. After a pause she beckoned one of her assistants over and whispered something into her ear. She gave the assistant a slight nod then, gracefully, she sat back down again at her harp and began to play a soft melody. 

    As she played, the light in the hall darkened and a cold wind blew over Rayla’s skin. Ishkalina’s melodic voice began to echo in her ears.

     _‘I too have seen the vision.’_

    Icy snow began to land on Rayla’s arms and face, confusing her senses in such stark contrast to the hot summer air. She let the snowflakes land on the back of her hand before tasting it with her tongue. Immediately spitting it out at the metallic coppery taste of blood.

      _'The portent tells of our world forever changed…’_

    The shocking taste in her mouth further triggered a moving vision in front of her open eyes. An indigo shadow, formless at first, growing impossibly large in front of the red horizon on a battlefield. 

     _‘…the realm of death and life conflated together.’_

    In the foreground, banners of armies led by men, elves, and other creatures marched languidly towards the shadow through the blood-red snow. They sung magical battle hymns, flung their missiles, swung their swords at the shadow but the monster only grew larger, eventually consuming the armies whole with its impossibly huge mouth.

    ‘ _A chimeric creature whose candied words speak of everlasting peace…’_

    Rayla gasped as the shadow in her vision enveloped her, absorbing her inside it completely. For an instant, Rayla’s mind joined with billions of other souls all screaming in terror in the conflagration of a unified mind.

     _‘He will utterly destroy individual life in the universe.’_

    Ishakalina finished playing and let the emotional feeling resonate inside their minds. Rayla found herself breathing heavily, completely out of breath. The feeling in her body was very similar to coming back from the spirit realm.

    For a moment, the sagely bard appeared to be overcome with emotion. She took a deep breath and began to play on her harp once more, this time the song was much more lively and she kept a syncopated beat using her foot on the dais.

    “So you see, Fendyn betrothed of Rayla, you do not bring me any portent of which I have not already seen for myself, and with greater fidelity.    

    “Which naturally brings me back to you, for what purpose do you come to my village?”

    Callum was drenched with sweat, the demands of his transformation spell further tapped into his body, “as Rayla said, we visit her family before marriage.”

    “I find that difficult to believe,” she said, her hands flowing over the silk strings with zeal.

    Rayla answered, “I already told you…”

    “Hold your tongue, little moon girl!” A flash of palpable anger twisted her face. “I’ll get to you yet.”

    Rayla jumped at the sight of the bard’s beautiful face contorted in hideous fury, then scowled at the insult. 

    Rivulets of sweat poured down Callum’s face as his glamour spell demanded ever more power from his already exhausted reserves. 

    The next words out of his mouth shocked Rayla, “I know what this is about. The magi council banished Zelmai from teaching magic. If there is punishment to be met against him or his family it should be against me. I was the one who forced him to teach me to use Sunfire magic.”

    The beautiful bard frowned, listening to Callum’s words as she continued to pluck strings on the harp. 

    The look of alarm in Callum’s face made Rayla suddenly realize that they were all under the spell of bard magic. Her protective instinct caused her to reflexively reach behind her back for her short swords but Callum shook his head and she let her hands drop.

    Ishkalina's hands were playing furiously now, “tell me your name.”

    “F-fendyn…” he croaked.

    “A lie,” the powerful bard said with a tone as dark as the discordant notes her harp were echoing. All light in the room faded as the mystical notes from the harp took on a corporeal consistency. Hazy, red smoke twirled around the bard’s hands and dribbled over the edge of the dais. Rayla wanted to grab her boyfriend and run out of the hall but she found her legs would not move. It felt like gravity was suddenly pulling her into the ground.

    “Your real name, please,” the bard said in a voice they could not resist.

    “Callum,” Rayla and Callum said together with one voice. 

     Nivin stammered. He opened and closed his mouth several times as to say Callum's name but as Rayla thought, contrary to what he said earlier, a part of his oath bond must still be active.    

    “Cal-lum,” she said, repeating the word with her mouth almost playfully, “not at all an elf name. 

    “Callum, betrothed of Rayla, unlike the moon’s illusions, my prophesies burn bright with the whole truth of the sun itself.”

    Her fingers moved with impossible speed across harp strings, her song felt like a thousand instruments played all at once. Callum fell to the ground. Rayla cried out to him trying to force her legs to move so she could reach him but she could only muster a few short steps.

    “It cannot be coincidence whereupon the arrival of two Moonshadow elves emboldens the vision of doom in my mind. And now, I receive news that humans attacked our people and used abominable Dark Magic inside our very borders.”

    Rayla forced her legs forward, ready to strike out at the golden harp and cease its hateful music. Unseen guards came into the light, holding out their curving swords which, unlike bardic training swords, bore a deadly silver-polished edge.

    “Tell me, Rayla.” Ishkalina said sardonically, “do your betrothal’s lies mean nothing to you, hmm?” Her forced laughter dripped with malice, “not a good start to a marriage. Or is that yet another moonshadow elf lie?”

    Rayla eyes burned with a fiery rage Callum had never seen before, she dropped her head, “no, he is not my betrothed.”

    The master bard nodded at this truth and continued to play her placating song, “there there, my dear. See how good it feels to tell the truth for once? I can tell that you love him.”

    “I do,” said Rayla, her voice cracking.

    Ishkalina’s eyes narrowed like a cat playing with a mouse. “Ahhh, but you really should tell the poor boy the whole truth about how you feel.”

    “I…” Rayla’s heart skipped a beat. She looked over at Callum struggling to maintain his spell, “I don’t understand.”

    “Of course you do,” said the master bard with a widening grin, “you simply haven’t been truthful with yourself to realize it yet. It’s true that you love him, just as you would love a parent or a sibling. But have you ever asked yourself if you were truly _in_ love with him?”

    “I-I don’t…”

    “A simple yes or no answer is all I require.”

    “Yes,” whispered Rayla, screwing her eyes shut and covering her face.

    “A lie!” Ishakalina cackled.

    Callum’s shocked look made the sagely bard laugh only harder. A cold flood of emotion poured down Rayla’s spine. She hadn’t had time to process her feelings for Callum, that was a future which seemed so far away. _What does being in love really mean? I love him, isn’t that enough?_

    Ishkalina stopped playing, rising but keeping one hand on her harp.

    “Now do you see how easily Sunfire magic cuts through all the lies to get to the truth?” She laughed again, “Oh yes, Callum. I know that evil is coming and YOU are his harbinger.”

    She struck the strings with the palm of her hand, sending out a bolt of red energy from the harp at Callum’s struggling form. The bolt struck the top of his head, and Rayla watched as his horns dropped away. His ears snapped back into human form like a rubber band under tension. His index finger popped back into place. He gave a low moan and collapsed onto the ground, quivering.

     The binding spell broken, Rayla darted towards Callum but she was grabbed around the waist by several guards who twisted her over and slammed her into the ground. She struggled and kicked with the ferocity of a banthar mother guarding her young.

    “Nivin,” said his mother emotionlessly, “arrest this traitorous, human-loving Moonshadow wench.”

    The Sunfire elf sighed, looking hopelessly at Rayla. He removed a single seed from his waist pocket, rubbed it between the palms of his hand and tossed it at Rayla still struggling on the ground. The seed flew through the air, rapidly growing into tough, fibrous vines that reached out and bound themselves around Rayla’s form until she could barely breathe.

    Rayla swore at Ishakalina’s smirking face as the vines grew tighter. She cursed again and again and each time the thin vines wrapped ever tighter around her neck. For a brief moment she caught Callum’s eyes, looking up at her with utter sadness and pain. She tried to call out to him, to explain everything, but the vines constricted her voice and her vision blurred with the lack of oxygen.

    A pair of Sunfire elf guards picked up the limp mage from the ground, pulling his arms behind his back and binding his wrists. He didn’t resist as Rayla watched them haul her boyfriend away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally supposed to be one part of a combined Rayla/Claudia chapter but I decided to give Ishkalina some more breathing room.


	16. Into the Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claudia awakens to discover she and Soren have been imprisoned deep in the forest.

**Claudia**

Her eyes fluttered open in the hazy red glow of a strange room. She could smell an earthy, sweet smell like cut grass tinged with a man-made aroma of sprocket grease. There was also the lingering smell of rot on all her clothes. A migraine pounded at her head and her throat was parched.

   Claudia tried to get up but instead heard the metallic clinking sound of wrist chains against wood. Looking around, she found was in a large wooden room, surrounded by darkness save for a red glowing orb directly above her bed. She could turn her head, and she saw her brother lying unconscious on a table next to her. There was a same half man/half goat person from the woods hovering over Soren, waving a wand of some sort over his body.

   Her stomach was exposed and she felt a warm tickle from where the undead soldier stabbed her earlier. Looking down and winced at the sight of green worms kneading the wound with tiny mandibles.

   The goat-man exhaled and licked its nose with a long, forked tongue. She saw the creature turn and approach. Claudia closed her eyes, feigning sleep despite the ticklish sensation on her stomach. She couldn’t hide a shiver.

   “This one stinks of the Dark magic,” the creature said in broken common language. It closed its pale blue eyes and ran its wand over the length of Claudia’s body and she could feel a prickling tingle on her skin.

   “Fortunately for the female, there are no foreign souls trapped inside her,” said the creature. It whistled to another creature hidden just outside of Claudia’s vision and another goat-person walked over, its hooves made light _clip-clop_ sounds on the wooden floor.

   “Please ask Hecate if he is willing to perform the cleansing ceremony today.”

   “I will, Fa’ir,” the smaller creature replied in a deep voice.

   The creature called Fa’ir turned to face Soren. He wore simple garments, hempen cloth dyed red, with brass buckles. Breeches of woven vines covered his legs and torso but they kept their cloven legs exposed. On his back he wore a staff of knotted wood, at the business end of it bore a bright blue stone that emitted a faint glow.

   The deep voiced assistant came back carrying a tray full of implements. He beckoned a large, four legged creature follow him and Claudia gasped as the creature came into view: it was the largest reindeer she had ever seen in her life. Its massive antlers were covered with moss and bore nests of birds that twittered whenever the beast moved its head.

   Fa’ir placed a hand on his chest and bowed before the beast, “Hecate, by your grace. I ask for your assistance.” The beast’s eyes seemed to bristle with wisdom and it gave a slight nod, sending more birds flitting off with annoyance.

   Hecate the reindeer approached Soren’s table but paused. It turned its wise eyes towards Claudia who was caught inside its gaze. The two goat-people turned to look at Claudia.

   “Um, hi,” was all her cracked voice could utter. She tried to wave as much as her bindings would allow.

   Fa’ir turned his horned, red face to Claudia and stuck out his forked tongue licking both of his cheeks. Claudia recoiled at the grisly sight.

   “You guys aren’t… going to eat us are you?”

   The creatures looked at each other and let out a series of whistles, their shoulders bouncing rhythmically as if in laughter.

   “Good Earth Mother, no! My name is Fa’ir and this is my partner, Naun. We’re Satyrs.” The smaller creature stuck out a pink tongue and licked a cheek. Fa’ir continued, “we mean to help you, child. You and the male of your species have both been tainted by evil spirits.”

   “I’m Claudia and the, erm... male over there is my brother, Soren. What exactly do you mean by evil spirits?”

   The creature cocked its head quizzically, “you mean you cannot smell it? You are tainted by unnatural energies, it robs you of your very soul.”

   Fa’ir reached with its four-fingered clawed hand at the white streak in Claudia’s sweat matted hair. The Dark Mage recoiled her head reflexively and the Satyr yanked its hand back, making a low whistle. His hooves clip-clopped on the floor as it turned to face Soren. It grabbed its wand-like instrument and ran it over Soren’s body. A ghostly image of a tiny deer, sad and diseased hovered over the instrument.

   “Your brother has a soul trapped inside of him, it must be released before the soul is lost forever to the void.”

   Claudia twisted her face with confusion, _does he mean the spell component that cured Soren’s paralysis?!_

   “But you can’t! My brother will be paralyzed without it!”

   Fa’ir and Naun exchanged glances and the larger of the two goat-people nodded at the large reindeer. Hecate took a few steps forward, approaching Soren’s unconscious form. The massive creature closed its eyes and Claudia watched as its antlers emitted a ghostly light. The birds who made a home in its antlers closed their eyes too and began to tweet a song in harmony. It would have been the most beautiful sight Claudia had ever seen if she wasn’t also aware the consequences it brought to her brother.

 A celestial, blue light from Hecate’s antlers extended over Soren’s body. The young knight’s body began to convulse as the light spread up and down his lengthy frame.

   “No! Stop!” Claudia cried as she struggled against her restraints

   But her cries were for naught, as the glow faded, Soren stopped struggling and the light coalesced into the ethereal shape of a young deer. The little fawn curled around on itself and quivered in fear. The wise old reindeer nuzzled its nose up to the little ghost and the little fawn blinked open its eyes. The ghost stuck out a tiny pink tongue licking the wise reindeer’s nose and bounded up to its feet, reborn again. It twirled happily then bounced up into the sky, its ghostly shape fading into nothing.

   Tears flowed down Claudia’s cheeks as she sobbed at the realization that her brother would be paralyzed again. Hecate turned its massive head towards Claudia and took a few steps forward.

   “Stay away!” She screamed, “keep that beast away from me!”

   Fa’ir patted Hecate’s head and the reindeer snorted, looking away. The Satyr stepped forward, raising its thin black eyebrows at Claudia with concern.

   “Hecate only means to relieve you of your curse,” he reached out a hand.

   “What you call curse, I call power. I was the one that used a deer to restore Soren’s life back.”

   “You trapped that poor creature’s soul inside your brother?” growled Naun.

   “I used a spell component, you mean,” Claudia said, frowning.

   “Who gave you the right!? How could you…” Naun snarled, baring stark white incisors.

   Fa’ir held up a hand to his partner.

   Claudia pulled at her restraints, letting the chains scrape against the hard wood.

   “Am I to be your prisoner then?” She asked.

   Fa’ir shook his head, making the colourful beads in his wiry beard clack together musically. He opened a leather pouch and plucked the glowing worms off of her stomach. They seemed reluctant to let go of their meal of poison and rotting flesh and Claudia grimaced at the sensation. Sealing the pouch, Fa’ir reached out a lengthy finger and touched the restraints and they releasing like a taut spring. Claudia sat up on the wooden table, feeling the subtle scar with her fingertips, then pulled her undershirt down over her stomach. She swung her legs off the table and hesitantly approached her brother’s table.

   “Cl-Claudia?” Soren said groggily. He seemed to drift in and out of consciousness.

   “I’m here Soren,” she said, feeling the burning well-up of tears again. She brushed his cheek. He had purple bruises under his eyes and his pale face exposed blue veins. The symptoms of first time magic use.

   “Release him,” she ordered through her narrow, scowling eyes.

   “You were never our captive,” said Fa’ir, he tapped Soren’s restraints and they snapped open.

   Claudia tugged on her brother’s shoulder, trying to pull it over her neck. She managed to sit Soren upright, but his motionless limbs offered her no assistance. He only groaned as she tried to slide him off the table.

   She struggled and pulled and grunted but the mage was simply not strong enough to pick up her brother. She put her head on his shoulder and let her tears soak into his dirty pathfinder uniform.

   “This isn’t fair! How could you take this from him?” She screamed into Fa’ir’s face. She wanted to strike back, to punish those who would take all that her brother had but she was disarmed with no sign of her equipment in sight.

   The two Satyrs backed away raising their hands with a look of fear in their eyes. The large animal they called Hecate snorted and raised his enormous head, turning it to the side to look at her with frowning eyes.

   “Stay away from us,” she stammered.

   The massive reindeer’s antlers glowed with a fiery light, sparks danced between buck points and the birds took flight. Claudia held up her hands just as she was struck by a bolt of red energy.

   Suddenly, she was looking through the eyes of another creature, in the verdant fields of Katolis. She could smell fresh milk-fruit through her sensitive nose. She sensed that her newborns were nearby and her heart was glad. But there was another smell approaching, something pungent and foul. _Humans!_

   She cried out to her unseen calves, and two came running bounding to her side but one was still missing.

   She heard the screaming of her calf. _There, in the clearing!_

   Her heart stopped as she saw a black robed creature pulled at writhing tentacles of purple light from her child. She screamed in anguish but the tall creature paid her no mind, grinning as her baby’s life was drained from its body. When the creature finished, her child collapsed on the ground. Dead.

   The tall creature raised its head to look at her, it was… it was herself! A look of guilt flashed before the tall creature’s blackened eyes met hers before it ran back into the bushes.

   She ran up to her lifeless child, nuzzling it with her nose but her tiny calf was cold. Its little pink tongue draped out of its pale mouth.

   The vision ended, and Claudia collapsed on the wooden floor of the room. She panted, holding her temples.

   “What Hecate showed you was only a glimpse of what you did to that poor creature’s mother,” said Naun.

   Claudia inhaled, using Soren’s table to pull herself back onto her feet. She exhaled, steeling herself, “and what vision will Hecate share of me and my brother, huh? Where is your empathy for us?”

   “Humans,” sighed Fa’ir, “for you it is always the path of least resistance. I do not know the reason the Earth Mother set this particular pathway before your brother, but it was the natural course of life. Stealing another life to change it was wrong, can’t you see?”

   “What is to stop me from taking another life to bring my brother’s life back?”

   “I will!” growled the diminutive Satyr, “if you threaten another defenceless creature in our forest so help me I’ll…”

   “Naun!” Barked the taller of the two Satyrs, “please tend to our gardens.”

   The other creature folded its thin arms across its chest and left in a huff. Fa’ir waited until his partner disappeared into the darkness.

   “Please forgive him, Naun is more passionate of my kind,” Fa’ir bowed his triangular shaped head, “you must be hungry, would you allow me to show you our village and perhaps you will get a better understanding of our beliefs.”

   Claudia scowled. She looked at her brother lying pathetically, half-folded over on the table. Seeing her gaze, Fa’ir brought over some dried branches and propped up Soren’s torso to elevate his head. Claudia nodded at the Satyr and he showed her out of the wooden room. Hecate the reindeer followed them like a sentinel.

   Claudia figured she could bide her time before she found a means of restoring Soren’s ability to walk and they could get out of there. Since these creatures posed no immediate threat, she would follow them.

   As they left the room, Claudia’s eyes adjusted to the dim lighting under a forest canopy. Their room was located high up on a tree. Ramps either led up into more rooms above or onto the floor below. Shafts of light burst forth through openings in the canopy to highlight a patchwork of farms below. From her vantage point, she saw the forest floor alive with other Satyrs toiling in the soil or plying away at crafts and trade. Fa’ir beckoned her to follow him down a ramp.

   “You consider yourself a dark mage I presume?” said Fa’ir uncomfortably.

   “Yes, I am,” she replied annoyed at his judgemental tone. “Do you not use magic yourself?”

   The Satyr made a huffed whistling sound that Claudia now assumed was the way their kind laughed. He replied, “no, thought I might been called a Shaman once but magic has been lost to our kind for generations.”

   “But you knocked me out with a lightning spell and you used a wand of identifying on my brother.”

   “We use the honey from lightning bees to power our stun darts,” he pointed with his index finger to the forest below. Claudia followed his point and saw a worker wearing chainmail, gingerly removing a plate from a hive as angry bees stung the worker with arcs of lightning.

   “That ‘wand’ as you call it contains Seeing Snails. They’re moonshadow creatures who have developed an unusual defence mechanism of warding evil spirits by casting a mirror illusion. Also very useful at identifying trapped souls as you have seen for yourself.”

   “And none of the bugs die in the process?”

   “Earth Mother no! We would prefer they live in the wilds, naturally, but we do provide them the sustenance they need to live and keep natural predators away. Ours is a symbiotic way of life.”

   “I see.”

   Fa’ir introduced Claudia to other Satyr villagers. They were all cordial if not standoffish when greeting the young human. They stopped in a communal kitchen and the earthy smells of hickory and fennel greeted Claudia’s senses. They waited in line and a young Satyr boy with bright, green eyes handed Claudia a bowl filled to the brim with a piping hot stew.

   The boy’s bright green eyes flashed, as he beamed a shy smile at Claudia.

   “What’s your name, little one?” Claudia asked.

   The boy’s cheeks turned bright blue and he squeezed his eyes closed, ducking behind the legs of a taller Satyr female who Claudia presumed was his mother.

   The mother gave her a thin smile and said, “this little trouble maker’s name is S’en.”

   Claudia crouched and gave the young boy a smile. “I have a brother named Soren, I bet would love to meet y…”

   Her voice hitched in her throat, forgetting just for the briefest moment that her brother could no longer walk again. She stood up and swallowed the lump forming in her throat.

   “Thank you, S’en,” she muttered, and joined Fa’ir and Naun who were already sitting at the table. Naun’s face tightened as she sat down.

   “What do you think of our village, Claudia?” asked Fa’ir between spoonfuls of stew.

   “It’s lovely,” she replied though her mind was elsewhere.

   Claudia scooped a spoon full of the stew into her mouth and found it wonderful to eat a hot meal for once instead of the cold, stale rations of pathfinder food. After several more bites, she found the texture and taste of something familiar.

   “Is there meat in this?” She asked.

   “Oh! My sincere apologies,” said Fa’ir, “I should have asked if you ate meat beforehand.”

   “No, I eat meat it’s just that you were so bent out of shape about using animals for spell components and yet you have no problem eating meat for food.”

   Naun - who was eating from plate filled with vegetables - dropped his three-tined fork with a loud, ceramic clink. He growled and said, “you claim to be a mage and yet you lack basic understanding about the fundamental principles of extra-planar theory.”

   Fa’ir sighed and said, “Naun, I am certain our guest here would be able to teach you a great deal of things that you don't know.”

   Naun, picked up his bowl and left the table in a huff.  Fa'ir watched him leave, sighed and shook his head, "oh, am I going to hear about that one later."

   The Satyr pulled a piece of moist steak from his bowl of stew, “it is true we raise animals for food. They have only one bad day in their life. We live in a magical realm and have learned from haughty elves that all living creatures possess a living soul that travel between planes of existence.”

   Claudia stared unblinking.

   “Wherever our souls end up after departing this realm is beyond anyone’s reckoning, but we do know they move on. That fawn’s soul, trapped inside your brother’s body to aid in his paralysis was trapped between the physical and metaphysical plane. Its soul slowly drained by the requirements of your Dark Magic spell. Its loneliness must have been terrible.”

   Claudia blinked away a tear and shook her head, still thinking about how Soren’s future was robbed from him by the dragon’s attack. _How lonely will he be?_

   “I had no idea,” she whispered.

   “Humans are young and have only used magic for a fraction of their time on this world. But your species will learn that a balance has to be maintained between life and death, fate and existence. Our kind underwent a similar schism and we eventually learned to coexist with creatures of magic. I have no doubt that in time, your kind will learn this as well.”

   Claudia finished her stew and remained mostly silent for the remainder of the lunch. Fa’ir offered to continue showing her around their village but she politely declined, wanting to bring Soren his lunch. The shaman had duties to attend to and so excused himself. Claudia found it odd the Satyr culture was so open and trusting, especially considering the warning that the Einar the pathfinder made about the forests.

   She made her way back up the ramp to the Fa’ir apartment in the trees. She found that Soren was awake, his eyes were open and staring out the window into the dim canopy of trees.

   “Heya Sor-Sor,” she said, “I brought you some lunch.”

   Soren blinked his eyes warily, then opened them wide. “Claudia! Are you okay? Are you still poisoned?”

   “No, I’m fine. You…”

   “Where are we?”

   “In the woods. Soren, I need to expl…”

   “Are we prisoners?”

   “No, at least I don’t think so. Listen…”

   “And why can’t I walk again?”

   “I’m trying to tell you that!” Claudia began to explain but she was interrupted by the sound of four heavy hooves behind her. Hecate had been trailing her, guarding her.

    _So they don’t actually trust me._

   “We’re in a Satyr village. They seem friendly enough. But I think they worship animals, and so, when they found out I used a deer to power your healing spell they…”

   “Wait, you used a baby deer as a spell component to let me walk again?” Soren stared at Claudia.

   “Uh, yeah. Have you never heard of Dark Magic before? Geez!”

   “And you're telling me all this time that I had the soul of a baby deer living inside me? When were you going to tell me this?”

   “N-never,” Claudia grabbed her forearm and turned away ashamed.

   Soren turned his head away. The sound of distant village voices and Hecate’s deep breathing hung in the air. Claudia was eventually going to tell her brother how she managed to repair his spinal injury, but after the weeks turned to months, she just sort of let it go. Soren would need a booster spell to maintain his ability to walk for the rest of his life and she’d maybe bring it up then but… now she wasn’t so sure she could do that anymore.

   “So,” Soren said softly, “what do we do now?”

   Claudia sighed, shaking her head. She sat on the bed next to Soren’s still form, adjusting the loose foliage propping up his back and brushing his hair away from his eyes. She began to feed him the now lukewarm stew which he devoured. He was absolutely famished and despite his returned condition of being paralyzed he was in decent spirits. Claudia started to cry.

   “Clauds, we’ll be fine. We’ve gotten through worse before,” Soren said.

   “It’s just not fair. I can fix you but…”

   “No you can’t!” The errant knight objected, “not if it takes the life of another deer! Look, if I’m going to overcome this, then I’m going to do it myself. Now, put more stew in my mouth, please!”

   Claudia sniffed and gave a little chuckle, shocked as always at her brother’s resilience in the face of adversity. She gave him a couple more helpings of stew and noticed that Hecate was standing uncomfortably close to the siblings.

    Claudia held out the empty bowl to the reindeer’s mouth. “Y-you want some stew?” She asked.

   Hecate snorted, letting a fog of moist breath dribble out of his flared nostrils into the outstretched bowl. The creature gave a few steps forward, knocking the bowl out of her hand with its thick snout

   “Uh… heh, good boy. Good moosey, elky, thing. You stay there!” Soren said as the creature tip-toed ever closer to Claudia.

   Hecate’s antlers began to emit a delicate blue hue and the birds sang a peaceful song.

   “Ooo, what pretty…” Soren uttered before he froze in place

   Time seemed to stop for everyone except Claudia and Hecate the reindeer. The creature’s eyes seemed less animal-like and more human. She could stare into Hecate’s eyes and hear a voice back, but it was not a voice. It was a feeling of pure empathy between two living creatures. Claudia knew exactly what Hecate was communicating.

   “You are offering me a choice?” She said, looking into the bottomless ocean of Hecate’s compassionate eyes.

   “What about his choice?” She gestured to her brother.

   Hecate snorted and the birds in his antlers sang a song of sympathy.

   “I see,” said the young mage, “then I accept.”

   The reindeer seemed to smile with his eyes, a beautiful wondrous smile that lifted Claudia’s heart and sent it soaring into the sky. High about the Satyr village, above the canopy of trees, through pastel coloured clouds and into the yawning sky. She disappeared.

   Time unfroze.

   “…lights on his antlers!” Soren said, then he heard his sister collapse on the floor. His body instinctively jumped at the startling sound. Shocked at once again being able to use his limbs to their full capacity.

   “No, not again!” Soren yelled, and the reindeer backed away. Its eyes back to their normal animalistic self.

   He picked up his sister, shaking her, “Claudia what have you done!?”

   Claudia’s eyes blinked open. She gently pushed her brother’s hand away as she got up to her feet again.

   “What did you do?” Soren yelled again.

   “I changed the course of fate. Hecate helped.”

   “What did it cost you? And you better not lie to me!”

   “Nothing… nothing,” she answered.

   Soren stared at her not breaking his gaze. A sibling moment, unspoken words between two people bonded through blood and familiar ties but also a life riddled with challenges. She would not break his gaze and until he finally let go with a deep exhalation. He made a half smile, and his eyes were wet with emotion. He turned away, sniffing hard, trying not to let his sister see his moment of weakness. He utterly believed her.

   “…and everything.” She whispered the lie under her breath.


	17. We Stand Alone Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rayla and Callum are trapped within cages of their own making.

His cage was too cold. So, Callum rocked back and forth, squeezing his legs against his chest to preserve a modicum of warmth. But the moment he gathered enough heat to be comfortable, the cage became too hot and so he stretched out his arms and legs to cool himself. And so this improbable cage was either too hot or too cold but never simply warm.

     His cage - like such things of magical origin - was built within his own mind. A personal purgatory in both the literal and metaphysical sense. Ishakalina, the inventor of this torturous cage actually believed such a construct to be more humane than mankind's primitive bricks and mortar. There Callum sat, out in Sunfire elf courtyard for the entire village to see. 

    The cage was a statement: Behold the human! Watch as he rocks back and forth to provide simple comfort to his apelike form! Ostracization was its other, cruel purpose.

    Certainly, Callum would have been embarrassed to see himself prostrate in this matter if he were capable of standing outside the cell of his mind. Inside the cage was a whole other matter. Doubt and guilt flooded his waking mind, hammering down any notion of escape. Has all the loss in his life lead to this? His failure to truly understand Sunfire magic whereupon he failed to convince Xadia that humans were capable of compassion and worthy partners in peace. Maybe Zelmai was right, maybe his romantic feelings for Rayla were clouding his judgement? 

 _‘Oh, Rayla!’_ His mind called out. Despite the heat, Callum pulled his legs closer to his chest as he wondered if he put too much of his own heart into that relationship. It was clear that she wasn’t ready to be romantic with him. 

 _‘Am I?’_ He wondered.

    How could he be? He was a human and she was an elf. Their very world was antithetical to their relationship. If he couldn’t even convince these Sunfire elves that he was capable of good, how could anyone believe a human could ever love an elf. 

_‘Oh, Rayla...’_

**Rayla**

In her momentary lapse of consciousness, the magic imbuing her restrictive vines died and crumbled into dust. Rayla’s eyes fluttered open and the tips of her fingers instinctively felt the rough, comforting texture of her short swords, quelling the panic welling in her chest. A gratingly beautiful instrument played somewhere around her though she couldn’t quite get a fix on the source. She rose to her feet and as her turquoise eyes adjusted to the dim light, she realized she was still inside the Bard training hall. 

    “Ah, the moon princess wakes,” Ishkalina’s candied voice cooed. “Won’t you please share a drink with me?” A single cone of light appeared above the stage, highlighting Ishkalina’s stunningly beautiful features.

    ‘ _Always with the dramatics these smarmy Bards_ ,’ thought Rayla.

    The sagely bard continued to play a Cello-like instrument with a long bow stringed with wispy strands of unicorn hair. Rayla grabbed a chair, with a gruff flick of her wrist she flipped the thing around and sat on it in reverse.

    “Dear, dear Rayla. Look at you. So full of fight and vigour, aren't you?”

    “I’m always ready for a fight. Are you challenging me to one then?”

    The sagely elf chuckled as she played a wistful song on her cello. The old elf began to thump her foot into the wooden floor and with each beat, Rayla felt her heart pound inside her chest. Every heart beat felt like a balloon about to burst.

    The bard’s skin burned red. The air around her cello fizzed with effervescent bubbles of light that terrorized Rayla’s mind. 

 _"I could burst your childish heart with but a single chord change.”_ The bard’s baleful voice became three discordant voices all at once. As quickly as the terror came it was over, the saccharine sweet voice of Ishakalina returned. And the cloying nature of bardic magic made Rayla question whether Ishkalina had said these words at all.

    “Why did you want to be a Bard?” asked the bard.

    Rayla scoffed, nonchalantly wiping away a bead of sweat. “Why should I answer any questions while I’m a prisoner?”

    Ishkalina turned up her large, brown eyes at Rayla feigning offense “You are free to leave at any time.”

    “Really? And what about Callum?”

    “See for yourself, dearie,” she said. She stopped playing her instrument for a moment, stabbing at a window with the tip of her cello bow. Rayla’s eyes followed her gesture as a magical portal shimmered into focus with an image of the centre of town. There sat Callum, under the ash tree holding his legs against his chest and rocking slowly while sunfire elves encircled him.

    Rayla stood up with a bolt, kicking the chair forwards with such force it struck Ishakalina’s cello out from under her legs. A pair of guards unsheathed their curving blades and pounded the floor with heavy boots.

    “Liar. We are your prisoners,” Rayla’s voice snarled with a ferocity she had never thought herself capable of.

    One of the guards bellowed, “stand down or we strike, Moon elf.”

    Rayla wanted so badly to grab her swords but found her muscles disobeyed her. Instead the only command her muscles would obey was to sit on the wooden stage.

    “Parley, Rayla. Parley.” Ishkalina cooed and the moonshadow assassin plunked herself down hard on the floor. Whatever magical curse she was under, she would have to bide her time.

    “Now, back to my question, did you ever truly wish to become a bard?”

    The moonshadow elf sighed, already certain she knew where these questions were leading. Rayla relented, “Bards are able to tap into magic which was always something I thought had to be learnt through mouldy books. So, it’s another skill I can use, that’s all.”

    “An honest answer. Thank you,” said the sagely bard.

    The bard continued to play an annoyingly repetitive refrain of her song. Rayla watched the magical, wavering image of Callum as he held his arms across his legs and then suddenly lie on the grass spread eagle. It was clear that Callum was being tortured. 

    “Let us go.” 

    “In a minute,” said Ishakalina, “did you know your mother?”  
Rayla bristled. The image of her mother in the spirit realm flashed before her and she blinked it away. She squeezed her eyes closed but the image of her mother and all of the emotions of guilt and fear kept coming back. The young assassin furrowed her brow.

    “Rayla?”

    “I won’t let yer sunsuckin’ bard magic force me to talk about her,” whispered Rayla through gritted teeth.

    Ishkalina pressed, “because I knew your mother. Through my husband, that is.” The sagely elf stopped playing and stared seemingly into empty space. “I knew everyone in his Dragon guard. My husband spoke so highly of his team but especially of the husband and wife moonshadow elves.”

    Rayla narrowed her eyes into a cat-like glare.

    “Your mother was known for her bravery, always the first to volunteer for missions. Always willing to take the lead on patrols. Always talking about the little girl in the moonshadow elf village and how it broke her heart to sacrifice her motherhood in order to keep you safe.”

    “Shut up!” shouted Rayla, tugging at invisible chords tying her down. “You know nothing about my mother.”

    “It must have been so hard to grow up without her.”

    “SHUT UP!”

    “Tsk tsk, dear,” said the bard sardonically, “anger is a trait a mother would correct. It’s why you wistfully bumble into decisions without your whole heart. You never really wanted to become a bard.”

    Rayla, swallowed hard. She tried to swallow the lava of anger burning within her.

    “And you never really loved that human,” she laughed. “To think anyone from their primitive race could ever love an elf.”

**Callum**

 

Callum’s body sweated and shivered and groaned heedless of the elves gawking at him. Inside his mind, Callum battled demons. Demons who wallowed in a sea of emotions overwhelming his consciousness.

    ‘You need to breath, Callum.’

    ‘Mom?” Callum called out into the void of his mind. ‘You're here too?’

    ‘I’m always with you,’ his mother said in a voice as soft and downy as new snow.

    ‘Mom...” the young mage called out, ‘I failed again.’

    Sarai, who was Callum’s mother, appeared at the forefront of his mind. Her visage fluttered between a physical and ghostly visage but to Callum it was the moment he required  to cast off empty ruminations.

    ‘My son,’ said Sarai, wiping away the salty lines of dried tears from his cheeks, ‘in life sometimes all you can do is breathe.’

    ‘I know, Mom. I know what you would say. All I can do is find a way to embrace these people with all my heart. That I need to understand everyone. But I can’t do it!’ 

    With the embrace only a mother can bestow, the young man who had the weight of the entire world thrust upon his shoulders felt as carefree as a child. All his problems melted away with the warmth of a mother’s love like snow on a warm winter’s day. 

    ‘You’re right, I need to pause and rethink my approach. I know I can get them to understand if I just...’

    Sarai laughed with the wisdom of ages, ‘my son, when your foe won’t listen to reason. When you’ve exhausted every option for parley. When they lock you inside a cage. Your only option left is to just breathe.’

    ‘Just breath...’ Callum repeated, as he closed eyes and took a deep breath.

    ‘Just breathe _fire_ ,’ Sarai said with a sly grin.

  **Rayla**

“Don’t cry, Rayla,” Ishkalina said as she continued to play the musical strands of magic that forced the assassin into the floor. “You know that deep down that I speak only the truth.” 

    Rayla gritted her teeth and though she felt the choking pain of emotion burning her throat, she wouldn’t let this monster get the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

    “Humans will destroy Xadia and everyone in it. Mark my words, your so-called betrothed will bring about you doom.”

    “NO!” shouted the assassin, cracking the magical bonds of magic. Her strength of will shook the sagely bard, who recoiled at the raw strength of this young moonshadow elf.

 _'Do You really think you could_ _withstand MY will, child?'_ Ishkalina’s baleful voice returned and once again Rayla couldn’t tell if it came within her mind or from the dour bard herself.

    “I said no!” Rayla sprung to her feet, though it took every ounce of her will to fight the bonds. She felt the tendrils of magic shatter like shards of glass against her skin, biting deep into flesh and muscle. But she refused to listen to her screaming nerves.

    “So what if I haven’t planned it through, I _do_ love him. I’m tired of you so-called sages telling us what to do. Your generation is responsible for this cold war in the first place!” 

    Ishakalina’s reserved face twisted into a horrifying scowl, all vestiges of beauty withered into a wrinkled mask of anger. The bard stood up, her skin glowed and cracked like molten lava.

    The bard’s momentary lapse of concentration allowed Rayla to unsheath her two short swords from their holsters. The assassin breathed deeply at the satisfying whip-crack her swords made as they cut the air and the last vestiges of magical binding snapped.

    Ishkalina roared as her willowy frame grew twice in size. She threw the now diminutive cello onto her shoulder and began to play it like a violin. Violent strands of physical music came to life and curled around her bow as a bolt of red light launched at Rayla. But the assassin was too fast, and she dived under the magic strands, somersaulting closer to the mage. 

    Two guards charged at Rayla, howling curses as their strikes whiffed against the shocking speed of this moonshadow elf. The deft elf easily parried their bows, cleaving a purple blur through the air. The red haloed bard made to attack with another magical bolt of music, just as Rayla snapped her blades into hook configuration. Rayla’s powerful legs launched her into the air, over yet another red bolt of light and using the hook-end of one of her blades, she tore out the strings on the bard’s Cello. A sour, twanging sound of broken strings broke Ishkalina’s spell.

    “How DARE you!” the bard screamed, “that instrument was a priceless relic.”

    “Well, now you can sing solo. So low we can’t hear you!” Rayla quipped.

    More guards stormed onto the stage. The rush of adrenaline still coursed through her, but Rayla was surrounded and knew it was time to give up. She flicked the hasp on her blades, folded the blades back into their holders with a snap. She tentatively raised her hands, but in that moment, the town exploded with fire.

  **Callum**

  _‘Just breathe fire,’_ his mother repeated in his mind.

    Callum’s eyes snapped open, shocked at the response within in his own body as roaring torrents of flame ripped out from every limb and pore of his body. Callum became living fire.

    The explosion from the thirsty fire sent shockwaves throughout the village bouncing off the walls of the valley and funneling upwards into the air like a gigantic drum. Those who gathered around the once whimpering human, cried out as the angry flames seared their skin. Luckily, the Sunfire elves had a natural resistance to fire based spells. Nevertheless, the utter shock of seeing the once feeble human channel magic they claimed as their own was enough to send the mocking elves him into hysterics.

     Rayla watched the events unfold at first over Ishkalina’s magical portal, then felt it as a crushing shockwave shattered glass and knocked the wind from her lungs. Her heightened training gave her resistance to blows of physical nature. She was able to resist the blast and make her exit while the remaining bards rolled in pain on the ground.

    Rayla darted out from the bard training hall, jumping onto the nearest rooftop. From her vantage point, she could see that most of the town were still reeling from the effects of Callum’s spell. The streets were littered with smashed glass and stoneware and a plume of fine dust slowly began to settle on the town obscuring everything. Rayla launched herself from rooftop to rooftop, letting her arms flow loosely behind her. On and on she leapt, constantly on the verge of falling and letting gravity assist her with increasing velocity.

    She felt the heat of Callum before she saw him. Against the billowing torrent of flames, Rayla shielded her pale face. She could barely make out the grey outline of the human through rising sheets of fire.

    “Callum!” She cried out, but her voice was a whimper against the roaring fire.

    She jumped off the rooftop and waved her arms to get his attention. Letting the flames scorch parts of her body not protected by her armour.

    “Callum it’s me, Rayla! You’re safe now!” screamed Rayla, pushing against the roiling windswept fire.

    “R-rayla?” said a thin voice within the flames. “I can’t stop it, Rayla. It’s consuming everything.”

    “Chill Callum! Just reach for my hand!”

    “Stay back, Rayla!” Callum cried over the conflagration, “you’ll be killed.”

    “Grab my hand!”

    Rayla reached out with her arm, ignoring the agonizing pain in her arm as she walked towards the belching fire. Just as she couldn’t withstand the searing torment, she felt the cold, five-fingered hand of Callum curling around her finger tips. As their fingers intertwined, the roar of the fire ceased and flamed-out with a sooty belch.

    When the smoke cleared, Callum held Rayla tight to his chest. Except for her very singed hair, Rayla was remarkably unharmed.

    “See, you just have to trust me,” Rayla smiled, inhaling the noxious smell of charred hair, Rayla’s hair. Callum saddened as he pulled charred bits of hair from her head, their eyes locked as Callum placed a cool hand on her reddened cheek. They closed their eyes as their lips came tantalizing close.

    “Stop right there,” barked a familiar voice. The fiery glow from a half unsheathed Sunfire blade made it immediately clear who it was.

    “Nivin,” said Rayla, placing herself in front of Callum and reaching for her swords, “you should have stuck up for us, you know Callum is innocent.”

    “Innocent!? Look around you. My mother was right, all humans are dangerous and need to face justice.”

    “Only because she were torturing him. Your mother is demented, Nivin. She tried to kill me.”

    “I highly doubt...”

    “Look,” said Callum, “just let us see Zelmai and we will leave your village never to return.”

    “Enough of this,” Nivin unsheathed his glowing blade.

    Callum and Rayla stood side-by-side. In the back of his mind, Callum was already charging his ice spell, and signed the draconic words into silent existence. Frosty arcs of light whirled into the rune of _Aspiro Frigis._ In the blink of an eye, Callum unleashed the impossibly cold blast at Nivin’s unsheathed sunforge blade. It was a cold that in future days, scientists would be incapable of calculating, its magical nature beyond even the coldest voids of the universe. Such was the young mage’s intrinsic understanding of sunfire magic and air elementals that he could channel such contrasting opposites into reality.

    Nivin’s blade hissed like a living thing as it was coated by the concentrated blast of supercooled ice. It shocked the elf enough to pause his charge just as Rayla began her attack. Whipping out her twin blades and laughing as the dulled sunfire blade bounced harmlessly off her twin weapons. But Nivin was no amateur, even if his weapon couldn’t immediately disarm the assassin, his defensive bardic martial skills were a match for Rayla’s offensive skills and the two experienced fighters parried and riposted attack after attack.  
  


    Back and forth the two melee fighters clashed. As Callum considered casting another spell, he heard the shrill cry of some horrible beast high over head. All heads turned upwards as wings of a gigantic, thrummed against the wind as the creature made slow circles over the village. A nervous murmur fell over the town and Rayla and Nivin ceased their attacks.

    Like a bird of prey, the massive dragon dove from the air, and Nivin and Callum both exchanged knowing looks as through the dust they could just recognize the tiny rider on the back of the beast. Before they could be certain however, the beast and its rider disappeared into the hilltop containing Zelmai’s little garden.

    “Zelmai!” Callum cried as he spun on his heel and ran up the hill towards his master’s lodge.

    Rayla and Nivin, still panting from exertion, gave each other a steely look. Nivin’s blade gave a final hiss as the supercooled ice melted away and he sheathed his sword. Rayla whipped her blades into their hasps and tucked them behind her back. They both followed the young mage up the hill to face the doom that had arrived to their tiny sanctuary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to StormySeaWitch and Porscheczar for proofreading. Additional thanks go out to Leone for lending me the delicious word “sunsucker”. With apologies to Band of Brothers for the chapter title.


	18. On the Eve of Atonement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soren and his new Satyr "frenemy" discuss why Claudia has formed a relationship with Hecate, the Satyr Village's magical guardian. Meanwhile Claudia has a meeting with a familiar foe.

Soren was starting to worry. Not because he was attacked by undead soldiers, or suddenly losing then regaining his ability to walk again or even his strangely friendly host of satyrs. He was getting worried about his sister’s sudden attachment to Hecate the reindeer. Over the last couple of days, the two were inseparable; having deeply profound conversations without ever uttering a word. 

    He watched as Claudia stroked Hecate’s long nose. The moment she would stop, the reindeer would nuzzle its snout into the crook of her neck and she’d laugh and resume petting the reindeer. Soren wasn’t the only one marvelling at his sister’s new best friend, other satyrs in the village watched the two form a bond with profound interest.

    Soren was sitting at a dining table striking a friendly conversation among the other satyrs. He excused himself as he was about to go for a second helping of the savoury communal stew when he was joined by Naun, the fiery partner of Fa’ir. Naun plunked himself hard at the bench opposite of the knight. He glared at Soren while Soren only stared back blankly. The two kept their eyes locked like this for a while before Naun rolled his big, doe-like eyes and broke the stand-off.

    “What do you make of that anyway?”

    “What?” answered Soren. “The stew? Good stew.”

    “No, dumdum, that!” The satyr gestured a needle-like finger towards Claudia and Hecate walking along the forest edge in the distance.

    Soren turned over his shoulder just as Hecate bowed his massive head, allowing Claudia to grapple on to one his antlers and he lifted her up and onto his back. Hecate burst into a loping run and Claudia threw her head back and laughed then the two broke through the dense forest and disappeared.

    When Soren turned back around, Naun looked gobsmacked. 

    “Hecate has never allowed anyone to get so close to him so quickly, let alone a human,” hissed the small framed satyr.

    Soren swallowed hard. There was never an easy answer when it came to explaining matters of his sister. 

    “Well, my sister is special among us humans. She’s a dark mage after all.”

    Naun cringed as Soren said those words.

    “And she loves fuzzy creatures so maybe Hecate sees that in her?”

    Naun slapped his forehead with a grunt and said, “Soren, Hecate is no ‘fuzzy creature’. He is countlessly ancient. Older than the forests. He doesn’t let anyone get close to him, no one.”

    Soren pursed his lips. Naun’s red tinged irises seemed to blaze as he stared into the direction where Hecate and Claudia entered the forest. The knight watched as Naun’s burning glare eventually softened. As an older sibling to a gifted sister Soren personally knew that look well.

    “You’re jealous,” said Soren, wearing a smug grin while absentmindedly scraping the remaining bits from his soup bowl.

    “Satyrs do not have human emotions.”

    “Eh, whatever word you use for being jealous... you got it,” said the blond knight, placing the empty spoon into his mouth for emphasis. “Bad,” he mumbled.

    “Bah!” quipped the satyr, waving his hands before folding his wiry arms across his chest. He let his brown braids dangle loosely around his face. Eventually, the satyr let out a low whistle which Soren understood was their way of sighing. For Soren, it was the first time he saw Naun let down his guard so the knight decided to use the opportunity to deftly uncover clues.

    “So, like, what’s the deal with you and the giant reindeer anyway? Does he run the town or something?”

    Naun held his arms tight across his chest, opening his eyes into a cat-like glare. The satyr made a whistling chortle which Soren wasn’t sure if it was sarcastic or not. He always assumed everything was “sarcasm” after a similar battle of wits with a certain Moonshadow elf a year and a half ago.

    The satyr shook his head and said, “Hecate doesn’t run the town… haven’t you been paying any attention? We live with the animals in a symbiotic relationship. They provide us with magical gifts and we give them protection and a comfortable life. Hecate is the most magical creature among us.”

    Soren nodded, considering the satyr’s words for a moment. But he didn’t notice Naun’s glowering stare return to his taut face. The satyr leaned forward, pounding his fists into the wooden table and making the other satyrs jump out of their seats. Some of them left in a hurry.

    “What?” asked Soren blankly.

    “Fa'ir trusts you,” Naun said as he dug his clawed fingernails deep into the hardwood table, leaning within inches of Soren’s face. “But I don’t. In fact, many here don’t believe you have been entirely truthful with who attacked you.”

    Soren closed his eyes, “all I can tell you about the things that attacked us is that they are magical and magical things fall firmly into my sister’s category. And I told you we are here to hunt a monster that escaped from our kingdom. If anything, you should be thanking us.”

    “A monster from the human realms?” Naun asked, narrowing his eyes.

    “Yup.”

    “What? Like a dark magic monster?”

    “That sounds like a Claudia question.”

    Naun rolled his eyes.

    “But why send only you two? How are you involved?”

    Soren looked away, unsure if he should reveal the entire truth of his relationship with the monster terrorizing Xadia.

    “Soren,” Naun began, his eyes briefly softening, “if we wanted to kill you we would have. Are you connected to this monster?”

    There was a long pause. Soren didn’t think about the response, only that he was still hungry and he wanted to end this conversation so he could join the line that was starting to form around the community kitchen for seconds.

    “The monster is,” Soren exhaled, “…was our Dad.”

    Naun leaned back from the table, placing a hand on his chin and tugging his thin beard. He motioned with his other hand as if to say, _go on_.

    “Look, I don't know how, but the truth is our Dad got smushed together with some Xadian elf-guy who was locked in a mirror and now the smushed Dad and elf are running around Xadia making undead things.”

    Naun blinked, taking it all in for a moment. He shook his head and with a half smile said, “Soren, that is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

    “Pah! See, this is why I leave all magical explainings to my sis.”

    The satyr clicked his tongue and let out a shrill whistle that made Soren’s teeth itch. It was clearly meant to invoke a satyr’s displeasure with the conversation and it grated on Soren’s still hangry nerves.

    “I know why Hecate is hanging around my sister,” Soren said with a finger snap.

    “Excuse me?” Said Naun.

    “You said you provide magical creatures with comfort and protection, right? Well, the big reindeer is magical and so is Claudia. Maybe he’s more comfortable around her because he knows Claudia can actually protect him.”

    The satyr stood up with a blast of air through his sharp teeth. He glared at Soren and for a moment the knight thought the lithe creature might jump over the table to attack. Instead, Naun scoffed and left the table with a huff.

    Soren shrugged, and didn’t give the conversation a second thought as he left for a second helping of stew.

**Claudia**

On and on Hecate ran with Claudia riding his back. The blurring forest whipped by the Dark Mage’s eyes in fuzzy patches of green, black and blue. The deep thudding sound of the mighty reindeer’s hooves kicked up a wake of debris from the forest floor and with it came the rustic smells of decaying vegetation. 

    “Slow down!” Claudia nervously laughed as she clung tightly to the reindeer’s gigantic antlers. She momentary lost her grip but Hecate anticipated her fear and moved his head ever so slightly so she could regain her hold.

    It was strange, but ever since the promise she made to Hecate, she and the impossibly ancient creature seemed to share a connection. Yet, to Claudia it wasn’t strange. To her it felt like the most natural outcome of a life defined by the impossible. She was denied the use of her Dark Magic and yet the fates somehow aligned to bring her together with the most magical creature there was, next to dragons. It was the most natural thing in the world.

    Hecate broke his loping sprint into a saunter then to a full stop. Claudia found herself in a wooden glade, a dim shaft of sunlight broke through the leafy canopy above. In the middle of the glade, stood a single twig reaching from the ground, grasping for the meagre light. The reindeer bowed its head and exhaled a blast of air through its nose. Claudia interpreted this to mean it was time to dismount and investigate.

    Claudia bounced off of Hecate’s back, the soft, loamy ground absorbing the shock in her legs. A prickling sensation rose up and down her skin indicating an invisible source of magic in this place. It felt familiar and warm and yet there was a feeling buried under that familiarity that wanted to push her away. It first came as a tiny cry inside her lower brain that told her to run away. She reached for her trusty blade but the only thing she felt between her fingertips was a gritty type of soot, as her hand passed completely through her shadowy torso. The discombobulation sent her heart racing - that is - if she still had a heart. She held her hands in front of her but they now took on an ethereal ghostly form and as she looked around, the random shapes of the forest were replaced by perfect angles of an elven reading room. Claudia recognized the room from the image inside her father’s stand up mirror.

    Claudia blinked, unsure if she was awake or dreaming. An invisible gust of wind flittered the sapling’s fragile leaves crumbling them into dust. The dust curled upwards and outwards, taking in volume and eventually forming into the shape of a man. Not quite human, he had the pointed ears of an elf and wore a ragged cloak which hung loosely over his shrivelled frame. The smoke coalesced until at last Claudia could clearly see the defined features of her father. His large wet eyes set deep inside sockets surrounded by wrinkles. His well manicured beard, had long ago turned grey and curled around the edges of his jowls.

    “Daughter,” he said, reaching out with his wiry arms to embrace Claudia. But Claudia stepped back holding her arms before her to guard against the imposter.

    “Who are you?” Her terse voice demanded.

    “Can you not recognize me?”

    “You appear to me as Viren, but that person is dead,” she deadpanned. The wrinkled man recoiled at her words like a hand from a flame. 

    “Claudia, it is me. Think back to the explosion that nearly destroyed Katolis. Back to your bedroom and the mirror and the monster that now calls itself Aaravir.”

    Claudia’s face twisted with the recollection of those events from months earlier. When the creature had taunted her with her name as she lay curled on the floor of her own room. The creature referred to her as his daughter too.

    “Don’t you dare lie to me!”

    “I would not. The man you hunt in Xadia sloughed off everything he believed was weak, including me and whatever remnants of the Startouch elf it despised. I’m what’s left.”

    “Aaravir?” Claudia repeated the name.

    “Yes,” the thin man exclaimed with a hiss. “We don’t have much time. Aaravir wants to start a war between the humans and elves.”

    “Why?  We are already close to a war,” _a war that I likely started myself,_ she didn’t say out loud.

    “His motives are unclear. I only have fragments of his memories to draw from but he means to use the pretext of all out war as a catalyst for some devious plan. Claudia, he means to wipe out all life on Xadia.”

    Claudia’s eyes went wide. She shook her head and frowned at the notion. “As powerful as he is, he’s just one person. How can one person destroy all life?”

    The thin man’s smoky visage flashed in and out of reality for a moment making the forest briefly visible. When the man came back into focus, his face was contorted in pain. For a moment, Claudia did see her father and she reached out with her hand, grabbing only the gritty texture of the illusion.

    “There is no time. Aaravir will discover what I am up to soon. Trust in Hecate, as I do or rather the parts of me that are Aaravos once did. Trust in Soren…”

    “Vir... Dad.” Claudia said, shaking her head, “you need to explain.”

    The deep wrinkles in the thin man’s face seemed to emphasize the pain of maintaining the psychic connection. He shimmered and sparked in and out of the corporeal. Each time the image faded back in, jolts of pain washed over his face.

    “Take this,” said the man, reaching towards Claudia with wrinkled hands holding aloft a thin wooden, wand. Claudia tentatively reached the branch and her hands passed through the image, sending a sparkling sensation of unbridled energy through her finger tips.

    “Concentrate. Remember our lessons, focus on what you want and let magic fulfil the rest.”

    The lessons of her father snapped into the forefront of her mind. Once upon a time, she was a tiny girl sitting upon her papa’s knee as he rolled a 20 sided dice over and over until it eventually landed with the number 1 facing upwards. With a flick of his wrist, the dice popped high into the air and landed with a clatter. It bounced on the table twice, three times, rolling until it came to rest with the number 20 facing the sky. She would later learn these were simple cantrips but to a young girl, her Dad’s ability to alter fate may as well moved mountains. Dark magic brought order to chaos, and if the will was there one could change fate itself.

    Claudia closed her eyes, thinking of the number 20 facing towards the sky. The roll guided not by luck but by will. Her own force of will.

    She opened her eyes and the swirling smoke forming the illusion faded into reality. Replaced instead by the boring physicality of the real, nothing but dull greens and browns of the present. One magical remnant of her encounter remained: the tender green sapling magically twisted in on itself. Leaves browned then dropped and the twig shrank into a dagger-like wand, like an arrow pointing towards the sky. Claudia felt the tingling prickle of magic as she reached her hand towards the still forming wand. At last it stood still, balanced precariously on one end. Eventually tipping over before Claudia darted forward, grabbing it by its hilt. As willowy as it looked like it had a hefty weight to it, as comfortable in her hands as Claudia’s dagger. It felt right.

    She was balancing the wand in her palm, feeling its weight when suddenly, the ethereal image of her father blinked into existence. Claudia jumped backwards, Hecate’s frame stopping her from falling to the ground.

    “Claudia!” the thin man shouted like a thunderclap, the tear in space causing incalculable air molecules to squeal in protest, “use the wand to destroy Aaravir. But if you cannot, you must kill the catalyst.”

    “What catalyst?” Claudia screamed over the rushing sound of the void, but her father could not hear.

    “He needs a Dark Magic catalyst to begin armageddon. You will know.”

    Claudia tried to speak but the shimmering image of the twisted man blinked away. Leaving only the bland colours of reality. She looked down at the wand in her hand. Such a fragile thing. How can this twig save the world?

    Hecate was there, nuzzling his warm wet nose into the crook of her arm. Claudia turned, looking into the creature’s wise eyes. She wanted to be strong in the presence of her majestic companion but the tears began to flow down her cheeks in salty streams. She buried her face into Hecate’s long snout. The reindeer didn’t move, his deep, rhythmic breathing like the bellows of an oven brought her comfort. It wasn’t long before her tears stopped.

    “You know my Dad?” She sniffed.

    Hecate blinked his wise eyes contemplatively. 

    “And who is Aaravos?”

    The reindeer’s ears perked up as she said the name. Its tail began to sway back and forth and Claudia could almost detect a smile forming on the reindeer’s mouth.

    “He’s your friend?”

    Before Hecate could emote a response, he turned his head away, raising his massive snout into the sky as he tested the air with a deep breath. His ears flicked forward then pinned backwards against its head.

    Claudia picked up the danger immediately, tucking the wand into a loop on her belt and placing her palm on the hasp of her dagger. She peered towards the direction Hecate was staring, straining her eyes to focus between the thick trees that stretched into the infinite black. 

    A concussive blast threw Claudia backwards, tossing trees aside, sending a visible ripple through the forest canopy. Quicker than his massive form should allow, Hecate moved his frame in front of Claudia, shielding her from flying branches. Dust stung her eyes and her ears rang a dinner bell. In an instant, the powerful wave passed by and for a second she thought the monster she now knew as Aaravir had created more destruction in his maniacal schemes. 

    But there was something different about the energy behind the blast, something natural and familiar. Like a smell that suddenly triggers a memory from childhood.

    “Let’s head back,” she said to Hecate and the reindeer was already anticipating her words. Claudia grabbed his antlers and with a flick of his neck, he lifted the Dark Mage onto his back. His hooves made deep thuds into the soil as Hecate raced back to the satyr camp.

    Hecate’s lanky legs blurred with incredible speed, his antlers glowing a bluish haze as he darted through the thick brush. Claudia could barely hang on as the massive reindeer dodged and jinked around thick trees and within moments, the trees began to thin and they were back in the village.

    The damage from the blast wasn’t as severe back in the satyr village though the satyrs looked around nervously, some gave the approaching Hecate a reassuring look. Claudia looked around the village and immediately saw her brother. He was running up to them, waving his arms and calling her name.

    “Clauds! Clauds! Did you hear that?” He said, carrying their backpacks with him.

    “Yes, we raced back here as soon as we heard it. But it doesn’t look like the village was affected as much as the place we were just at.”

    A crowd was beginning to form around Hecate and Fa'ir pushed his way through. He stood next to Soren and said, “The forests are magic, Hecate can move thousands of miles through them in an instant. So you could have been anywhere.”

    “But you say you heard the blast?”

    “Heard and felt,” said Soren again.

    “The blast likely came from the north,” said Naun, also pushing his way through the crowd, “there’s a Sunfire village up there.”

    Claudia and Soren gave each other knowing looks.

    “Dad?” said Soren.

    Claudia pursed her lips, the lingering, familiar sensation still scratching at the back of her mind. One name came to her mind but that was impossible... he was in moonshadow lands.

    “I don’t know why but I think this could something else, but I bet we will found Aaravir there.”

    “Aaravir?” Soren asked with a confused shrug.

    “I’ll explain along the way,” said Claudia, swinging her legs off of Hecate's back and landing on the ground. “Fa’ir, Naun, thank you so much for your hospitality but we need to find our Dad.”

    Claudia opened her arms, moving in to embrace Fa’ir and at first the diminutive shaman was taken aback by the gesture. But the look in Claudia’s eyes made him relent and he allowed her to wrap her arms around the hairy creature. Naun gave Soren a look that said, _don’t you dare try to hug me._

    “Hecate will take you to where you need to go,” said Fa’ir as the reindeer crouched low to allow Soren and Claudia to climb his back.

    “May the earth mother guide and protect you,” said Fa’ir, wrapping an arm around Naun and pulling his partner closer. Naun rolled his eyes and trilled his tongue. The crowd of satyrs who had gathered join with Naun in a chorus of trills as Hecate turned about on his lanky legs. The creature bounded towards the forest, nearly knocking Soren off with his unpredictable speed.

    Hecate launched himself into the impenetrable barrier of trees and Soren gave a cry of fear just as the reindeer leapt between the trunks of two massive trees  His hooves snapped dry branches and thrummed against the ground with the timbre of a bass drum. Claudia laughed in spite of herself as the wind whipped her hair back into Soren’s face. Soren spat out a mouthful of his sister’s hair to see a vision of the verdant forest, blurring around them in a kaleidoscope of colours. Hecate seemed to navigate an impossibly random path as trunks and branches narrowly missed knocking them over.

    At last, the forest opened up into a dry hillside overlooking a small village nestled within a valley floor. In the twilight, a thin, blue wisp of smoke rose high into the sky originating apparently from a tall ash tree at the centre of the village.

    They felt a blast of air from above as indigo blue dragon flapped its mighty wings above their heads. The mighty beast glided down the hill, heading towards the village. The tips of its massive wings trailing thin white streamers of condensed vapour as it suddenly banked over the village. The beast made a mighty roar before it dove like a missile into the village and went out of sight.

    Soren peered around Claudia’s shoulder, their exchanged looks said everything. They nodded and Claudia gave a click of her tongue and Hecate responded by sprinting down towards the town. 

    To face their father at last.


	19. End of Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After several months an update! While the Sunfire village burns, Callum and Rayla face off against the necromancer Aaravir.

**Aaravir**

The dragon banked and pulled Aaravir hard into his saddle. An understanding smile crept across the necromancer’s angular face as his mind revealed the granular magic known as gravity. Moments like these were becoming more common ever since the magical fusion that created the amalgam a human and elf and giving him life. He couldn’t be certain if it was the Startouched Elf part of his mind that allowed him to view the flow of time as a circle rather than a straight line, allowing view events in the past as well as in the future. What he was certain was that the human part of his mind relished the newfound power with reckless abandon.

His mind revealed an image of grey ash tree surrounded by verdant gardens in the heart of a Sunfire village was as clear as a diamond in his mind. Sure enough, Aaravir spotted the garden and coaxed his dragon to begin its dive. The beast’s forked tongue lapping at blue flames dribbling from its mouth in anticipation of the coming battle. It tipped its nose over, folding its wings along its massive torso. Its mane of keratinous horns howled a demonic cacophony as winds buffeted both necromancer and beast. Just before velocity reached terminal, the dragon unfolded mithril-hued wings, sending a mighty crash of air downwards and outwards. A duct-choked blast of wind knocked over trees, statues and anything not bolted down inside the intricate garden. The dragon gave several more flaps of its wings before gingerly touching the ground with its clawed feet.

Before the dust could settle, Aaravir leapt clear from his mount. His silken robes whipping around him in whirling dust devils. The necromancer gave his dragon a sideways glance, and the beast took its cue to launch itself into the air. It’s massive wings making deep rushing noise as it circled high above the house in search for intruders.

The necromancer did not wait before he spoke words of power from dimensions beyond the darkest imaginations of mortal men. Fat, buzzing flies, anticipating the feculent birth of rot popped into existence trailing a green wake from Aaravirs’ staff. He carved a rune into the air, and snarled out the draconic words, “ _consumptus vita.”_ And his cheshire smile finished the spell.

The turgid rune burst like a rotted boil. Showering Zelmai’s garden in a sticky quagmire of rotting filth. The filth had the viscosity and power of molten lava if not for the reek of death as it consumed. Bright flowers, succulent cacti, any living thing thrashed and died as the goo spread outwards, devouring life to power the next phase of its master’s spell. The filth’s slow crawl reached a feverish pace as it reached the middle of Zelmai’s garden and the ash tree. Zelmai’s bird Harman gave a shrill cry as he flew into the sky distracting Aaravir for a brief moment.

    “Get the hell out of my garden,” growled Zelmai, reaching out into the darkness with his cane.

Aaravir cocked his head quizzically. He gave the old man a leering grin, closed his eyes and sniffed the air, with a contented sigh.

    “Ahhh,” he moaned, “for someone so old, you brim with magical energy. You would be a welcome addition to my menagerie of living death.”

    “Stranger, I’ll say this one more time. Get off of my land or so help me I’ll rain down so much fire on your head you’ll think Garlath the Destroyer has come down from the sky.”

Aaravir threw his head back and made a laugh that boomed like an earthquake. He raised the palms of his hands into the night sky. Energy shimmered from his hands like heat over desert sands.

    “I own the night, old man. You, however, beg at the altar of the Sun who feeds you scraps by day and ignores you at night.” Aaravir began to stride towards Zelmai, savouring the moment with every swish of his long legs.

    “Who the hell are you?” Zelmai called out, straining as the familiar tone in the stranger’s voice tickled a memory in the back of his mind.

    The necromancer paused for a moment, then spoke his name, “I am Aaravir, the peacemaker. Bringer of stability to a land riddled with turmoil.”

Zelmai’s eyebrows knotted into a scowl. He spat on the ground, “Liar! I know who you are. You’re Aaravos. The Arcane counsel should have killed you when they had the chance.” 

The dark wizard rolled his eyes, clearly bored with this discussion, “all will be revealed when you join the menagerie.” With murderous glint in his eyes, the necromancer resumed casting his spell.

Zelmai had been hunched over and so as not to reveal what he had been hiding behind his back. The old master uttered a phrase of ancient draconic under his breath and with the tip of his cane, he scrawled a rune into what was left of his garden. He allowed Aaravir to move closer while murmuring words of antiquity. Words of deference and a promise to the primal sun that the old mage was truly capable of understanding what terrible, titanic energies the Sun was about to unleash. 

Zelmai’s hollow eye-sockets blinked wide open. A flash of light faster than time exploded from the bottomless pits and the old mage’s twisted frame stood tall with the rush of cosmic power coursing through him. He stretched a sunfire orb high into the sky, the same orb that was just moments ago powering the planetarium in his basement. His tattered house-robe fell from his wiry shoulders and he stepped forward revealing majestic Sunfire robes.

Aaravir stopped in his tracks. For all his power, his mind had not been quick enough to predict this outcome. The flash of light revealed every single bone inside his lithe body as if the sun had torn away all of his flesh. He knew he was being bombarded by powerful radiating magic, and if he did not act, his very cells would be torn to shreds. He channeled his half-conjured spell into a whirling frenzy of unorganized chaos, creating an anti-spell from the feculent pool of goo. Purple and green rays of unfocused light cast a shimmering bubble around the half-elf half-man. He made the mistake of taking a breath and the Sunfire mage capitalized on the error.

The old Sunfire master had completed his next spell, the spell was only a tiny fraction of the sun's potential energy but could easily destroy the fragile foundations of the planet. Zelmai waved his varicose veined hands into sharp circles with a martial athleticism he had kept hidden until this moment. For a spell this complex, he was forced to employ his feet, kicking straight forward with a hard jab of his heel to accent the lower half of an intricate rune, while the sweeping, darting motions of his cane carved the remainder of the unimaginably complex upper half of the rune. With a snappy kick-flip, he made the final mark of his rune with out-stretched toes.

Though Aaravir could not understand the rune, he realized his impending doom if did not act. His eyes went wide as he realized that he had made a serious error attacking this village head-on. His challenger had for a moment, opened a portal that bridged a tiny section of Xadia with the surface of the sun. The section of Xadia he was currently standing on.

A geyser of pressurized plasma, cooled somewhat by the cosmic leap from the Sun, graciously accepted Zelmai’s invitation to have one taste of the delicious flammable life on a planet normally out of its reach. The Sun’s hunger to consume was satiated for only a fraction of an instant. But a fraction was all Zelmai needed.

The pillar of destruction rose high into the night sky, blasting everything upwards into a cylinder before the magic of gravity pulled it back to earth giving it the shape of a mushroom. Through wisdom alone, Zelmai was able to channel the Sun’s unbridled energies into a tight pillar, sparing the tiny village from the Sun’s wrath. Nothing within and above the cone of destruction could live. In seconds it was over and the only thing remaining where Aaravir once stood was a blackened streams of charred organic matter.

The land reeked of burnt wood and ozone. Zelmai exhaled a puff of vapour then fell to his knees, gasping to find his breath in the oxygen deprived air. He was asking too much from his Arcanum source, especially when he only had the sunfire stone to make the bridge across the solar system. The mage’s legs trembled as he used his cane to lift himself up and on to his feet. He swung the cane out into the night. Swirling the singed gasses still rising from the circle where his enemy had been. There was no sign of the intruder, though Zelmai could still smell the rotten stench of death.

    “My poor, poor garden,” the old man said, his chin trembling with a stifled sob, “the monster won’t hurt you anymore.”

    “Perhaps,” said a buttery soft voice said behind Zelmai’s back. ”Who will help you I wonder?” 

Zelmai spun around on his heel, using the momentum and every remaining ounce of his strength to swing his cane at the voice. But Aaravir simply brushed the physical attack aside with one hand.

    “You are a powerful one, I’ll give you that,” said the amalgam of elf and man, “but what good are your primitive attacks against a foe who can predict the future?”

Aaravir had seen Zelmai casting the sun rift spell, he knew he was outmatched on a one-on-one wizard duel. Guile and deception however; Aaravir had in spades. He cantripped a basic mage teleportation spell, blinking away from danger through the immaterial plane, and dropped himself a few yards over Zelmai’s head. The vastness of his mind was able to divinate that the Sunfire master had a hidden source of power, though it is unclear where he hid it. 

Aaravir’s hands cut vicious arcs through the air, carving an abominable rune that began to blaze with an unholy green and blue light that made the rune look like a living bruise.

    “ _Aspiro vector abominus_ ,” Aaravir said, igniting the rune, giving life to two black tentacles which rose up from the pool of bubbling goo. The writhing things hissed in madness as they lashed out at any living thing to sustain its unlife. With sightless vision, the tentacles found the closest abundance of energy, Zelmai’s body.

Tentacles buried invisible teeth deep into his flesh and then deeper still. Thick, blue veins wiggled their way up Zelmai’s arms, creeping just under the surface of his skin as the tentacles drove deeper into his flesh in their maddening thirst for life.

Zelmai didn’t cry out but the pain was evident as he nearly let slip his sunfire stone from his fingertips.

    “I’d hold on to your little toy if I were you,” said Aaravir with a mocking tone, “unless you want to make this a quick death.”

Zelmai held the Sunfire stone in both hands and the orb blazed with fiery light. The tentacles continued to crawl under the sunfire mage’s skin as he was lifted high into the air. The tentacles grew taut as they devoured their host and gave a portion of their bounty to their source. The blackened ooze grew in mass and power with each pulse.

    “Now tell me, where is your little apprentice?”

**Callum**

A million thoughts raced through Callum’s head as he sprinted up the hill towards his Zelmain’s cabin.

Magical flashes of light, silhouetted mile-high clouds with otherworld colour. Whip-crack sounds of arcane magic sundered the air. All at once, a massive pillar of pure white light thundered upwards into the night sky, buffeting aside clouds with orange fire. Callum threw himself onto the ground, as impossibly unbridled magics overwhelmed his senses. He forced his eyes upwards, witnessing a mushroom cloud stretch upwards into the infinite sky. 

    “Get up, Callum,” he said to himself through chattering teeth. “You’re a mage for crying out loud.”

His legs felt rubbery underneath him as he hunched over. He took a deep breath, clenching his fists as he willed his spine up-right, but the runaway beating of his heart made his head swim. He fell to his knees and the weight of the world pulled him further to the ground. 

    “I can’t… I can’t do this,” he whispered, with a trembling voice, “not alone.”

    “You aren’t alone, dummy,” said Rayla, suddenly beside him.

    “I’m sorry.”

    “Hey,” she said, gently holding his shoulders and raising him from the ground. “You don’t need to be sorry.”

    “Look at that!” He said, pointing to the still rising pillar of flame. “How can I face the kind of monster that can do magic like that? I can barely light a candle with my fingers!”

    “Because I’ll be with you.”

    “I’m sorry…” said the young mage, looking away.

    “Stop apologizing, Callum.”

    “No listen, I want to say that if I rushed you into doing something you didn’t want…”

    “Callum…” Rayla, blushing, looked down.

    “…that I’m sorry. I’m so selfish. I just love you so much that I never considered the stigma of an elf and a human having a real relationship.”

    Rayla pulled at the corners of her mouth, forcing an awkward smile. Her cheeks glowed redder than the pillar of light in the sky. “Callum!” she said half laughing in spite of herself.

    “But what if…”

Before he could finish, Rayla swiftly maneuvered her head around his. Their lips connected. For the briefest moment, Callum wanted to pull away, feeling unworthy of her intimacy. But then came the warm tingle in the back of his head. A calming warmth spread down his spine and across his arms sending goosebumps along his skin. He placed his hand gently across Rayla’s soft cheek. In response, she pressed her lips deeper into his, revealing through the physical moment a bond no words could ever describe. It was like time stopped as the flood of self-doubt drawined away.

    Behind them, Nivin cleared his throat. “A-hem,” he said, before looking abashedly off to the side.

The pair opened their eyes, suddenly reminded of their predicament as the orange glow from the pillar of fire slowly faded into the night. Their parting lips made a sticky smack sound and they both looked down embarrassed.

    “I’m glad you didn’t run away,” Rayla, said clearing throat awkwardly.

    “Mmm, yes,” he said, chuckling.

She placed her hands on his shoulders, giving them a squeeze.

    “Hey, let’s go kill this monster now and talk about our future later.”

    “We may have another problem,” Nivin deadpanned as he pointed up the grey cloud that had once been alight with flames. A dragon with outstretched wings sparkling with blue lights, banked slowly around the pillar. The mythical creature pulled its head back and made shrill cry that made them cover their ears. 

    “We’re kinda short on allies, Nivin. Can you promise us that you’ll have our back for whatever it is we fight up there? You can arrest me later.”

    “Callum,” said Nivin, earnestly, “if you can take down whomever is behind all of this, I’ll give make you village mayor.”

They each nodded and turned towards Zelmai’s cottage.

Lead by Rayla they raced up the hill, keeping to the singed hedgerows. She would hold up a hand and the Sunfire elf and human would drop to their bellies. Only when the circling dragon turned away its head would Rayla allow them to continue. Rayla peered through the grasses squinting so as not to reveal the reflection of her eyes. The dragon screamed so loud the trio jump nearly out of their skin.

    “We’re spotted!” she said pulling out her swords and getting to her knees in preparation of launching herself at the massive beast.

    “Wait!” Nivin said in a harsh whisper, putting a hand on her shoulder. The three watched the dragon soar towards the ground, growing larger as it flew straight towards them. The wind howled around them, scattering debris and knocking Rayla backwards. The three looked back to see the dragon chasing a distant figure on the other side of the valley.

    “Well, that’s lucky,” utter Callum, pulling branches from his hair.

    “C’mon!” Rayla bounded to her feet, pulling Callum and Nivin to their feet. 

As the sight of Zelmai’s cottage grew closer, mystical lights and unearthly sound filled their eyes and ears, threatening to overwhelm any sense of reason. Nivin was the first to reach the gate to Zelmai’s garden. He drew his sunforge blade and waited for the other two to get into position. He held up his hand, counting down four fingers, three, two, one.

With a swift forward kick, Rayla bashed open the gate, knocking it off the hinges. The crash of wood shattered into a thousand splinters was like a whisper against the raucous noise of magical energies filling the garden. 

As the garden pathway opened up to the garden, the scene unfolded before them like a living nightmare. 

Shredded white robes dangled high in the air, lifted up by a pair of throbbing tentacles. A brackish pool of foul smelling goo grew from the base of the tentacles, growing in size with every tentacle pulse. At the very centre of this hellscape, stood a cloaked figure holding one hand in the air, guiding the tentacles like the conductor of an orchestra of madness.  

    “Oh gods…” Callum whispered, and he started to run forward before Rayla grabbed him by his shoulders, indicating towards the black goo blocking their way.

The cloaked figure whipped around his angular head. Under the cloak, Callum could see one side of his face had the pointed ears and angular cheekbones of an elf, but the other side of its face more round and human-like. The figure gawked at Callum, as a crocodile smile stretched his face and revealing gleaming teeth. Callum recognized him as the man from the spirit world.

    “Ah!” the man cooed, “the main guests have arrived. I have no use for you, old man.”

    “Zelmai!” Callum screamed, suddenly aware that the folded robes contained the desiccated figure of his teacher. He pulled away from Rayla before she could react.

The robed man flicked his finger at Zelmai, the tentacles made a quivering, peristaltic motion, wrenching one final bit of energy from its host. The sunfire stone, dim now, fell from the old man’s limp hands an instant before Zelmai’s collapsed robes fell on top of the empty stone.

Callum’s mind raged like wildfire, the spell that he had prepared took on a new radiance, torn away from a place inside his mind he had been afraid of opening. He knew his friends were beside him. Emboldened by their presence, he surrendered to the force he felt growing within him. He was immolated in pure energy that was equally terrifying as a shadow and soothing as a mother's hand. Knitting the forces of the sky arcanum, sunfire magic and some other power source he could not name, he gave life to a new spell. In that moment, Callum’s anger cancelled out all fear. He drew a rune that mixed the sky and sun arcanum energies with an unknown power.

Aaravir cocked his head, pursing his lips slightly at the sight of the foreign rune rippling and sizzling in the cold, night air. 

    “Impressive,” was all the necromancer managed to utter before night turned into day.

    “ _Aspiro lux solus,”_ Callum mouthed the words instinctively.

Callum’s eyes blinked open. A pair of powerful beams unleashed a concentrated burst of life-giving energy from the sun, the titanic source of power crashed against Aaravir’s frame. Callum’s hands tightened into curled fists as he held the beam steady, feeling a momentary bond with the elf at the other end. He could feel the entirety of Aaravir’s hatred and fear as cleansing beams cast aside death and decay. 

The beam was utterly draining, and the mage could feel the unknown source of power inside his mind beginning to close as his heart fluttered. 

_This will kill me._

He shut his eyelids on his dry retinas. Rayla ran up beside him, bracing him before he fell into the singed grass. He tried to open his eyes again but everything around him was a blur.

    “Is he gone?” said Callum, rubbing his burning eyes.

Rayla and Nivin squinted against the smoke and haze of the still evaporating spell effects. Callum’s spell bore a perfect tunnel through the garden, the thick goo recoiled against the after-effects of the spell but there was no sign of the cloaked figure. 

    “I think you got him, Callum!” Rayla said nervously. Adding, with a quiver in her voice, “I... I’ve never seen you do that spell before.”

    “I know,” he said groggily, “I must have heard it from Zel… Zelmai!”

Callum jumped to his feet though his head spun like he had just lost a quart of blood. He stumbled until he fell on top of Zelmai’s robes.

    "Oof!” came a muffled moan from within the robes, “careful ya’ clumsy human.”

    “You’re alive?!” Callum cried, searching the robe for some sign up his teacher.

    “There’s life yet in these old bones.”

    “Zelmai, I’m sorry I couldn’t be here to help. I should have listened to you.”

    A faded, transparent visage of the wise Sunfire master appeared and it turned his face toward Callum. “I’m proud of you, my boy.”

    Tears began to burn his red eyes, still stinging from his spell. “Proud of what? I didn’t even pass your course.”

A ghostly hand reached out and gripped Callum’s arm, even though it barely corporeal, the young mage still felt the strength behind his teacher’s grip.

    “You surpassed me, my boy,” he said with a throaty laugh that turned into a spasm of coughs, “gods of Xadia, you surpassed me.”

Rayla was suddenly there kneeling beside her uncle, tears running freely down her cheeks.

    “You two take care of one another,” mumbled the old sage, “save the world and grow old together if that’s your wish. Either way you have my blessing.”

    “Uncle Zelmai…” sobbed Rayla, gently placing her forehead on his fading head.

    “Is Nivin there?” the fading figure of Zelmai whispered.

    “I’m here, great-uncle. What words would you say to me?”

    “Nivin…”

    “Yes?”

    “Your mom is a dragon’s arsehole.”

Nivin stepped backwards in shock. His chin quivered and then his mouth cracked a smile, he started giggling and before he knew it he threw back his head and laughed. 

Callum and Rayla looked at each other in utter shock.

    “You damned old codger,” he said, barely holding back a sob, “she is a bit of dragon’s arse though,” he said, letting out a snort that sent him into further fits of laughter.

Nivin’s giggling fit was so infectious, the other two couldn’t help but join in. Looking at each other through tear-soaked eyes. They wrapped their arms around each other, laughing and sobbing unsure of which emotion overrides the other. 

Callum sniffed, wiping his face with his sleeve now drenched with tears. He looked down and the image of Zelmai was no more. Robes folded in on themselves as their owner’s body disappeared into the void. The dim sunfire stone rolled out from empty robes, stopping at Callum’s wrist. He recoiled his hand, looking at Rayla with an expression of guilt.

    “I think he’d want you to have that,” said Rayla wiping away tears with the back of her wrist.

Callum picked up the sunstone and got up to his feet, surveying the damage. Rayla buried her head into his shoulder. He placed a reassuring hand on Rayla’s head, watching with curiosity as the brackish goo seemed to retreat. The slimy substance pulled itself towards the centre of the garden and up the ash tree. Callum could hear the hollow, crushing sound of branches collapsing in on themselves.

Rayla sniffed, and pulled her head away from Callum’s tunic now soaked with tears. She shook her head, snapping back into combat mode as the unnatural scene of thrashing goo unfolded before them. She unsheathed her two swords with a whip-crack and stepped in front of Callum. Nivin stood beside her, holding the dazzlingly bright Sunforge blade in front of him.

    “Got another one of those spells in you, Callum?” Asked Nivin.

    Callum shook his head, his temples pounding with a headache, “no, and I think I know what a hangover feels like.”

    “A what?”

    “It’s a human thing,” Rayla replied, staring at the ever growing menace at the center of Zelmai’s garden.

Blackened skin grew around the jagged bones of the ash tree, crushing and compacting wood into magically hardened flesh. Leafy branches began to weave in and out on itself, transforming into an intricate pattern of clothing retained from some instinctive memory. The soul of the creature molding before them was stored on synaptic memories made from a trillion-trillion undead souls. The souls of every living thing it once absorbed, from the tiniest blade of grass to wild animals. The overriding singularity of mind belonged to Aaravos. As for Viren, only the tiniest living fragment remained of the human in this form. To Aaravir, he was nothing more than a living puppet containing just enough human sentience to allow the necromancer to exist in this plane.

The still congealing form of Aaravir clapped his hands together, making sticky, slapping sounds. A horrible grin opened monstrously wide on his oozing face, revealing still hardening bones created from impossibly compressed wood. 

Nivin withdrew a bardic string from a belt satchel, wrapping the wispy magical strands around his torso. He pulled the string taut using his horns and the think blade of his blazing sword. The bending notes emanating from the magical strands shimmered with anticipation of its owner’s song. Nivin took a bardic stance, stretching the string out and towards the still forming figure of Aaravir and began to play...

Rayla bellowed an ancient, moonshadow warcry at her target, her voice primal and raw as she launched herself high into the air, aiming the pointy ends of her blades at the monster’s head...

    “I _am_ impressed, young Callum,” boomed one voice from the ooze like an echo from the deepest caverns in Xadia, “but now it's my turn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. I've been waiting to post this chapter for several months now. It just never felt right but after getting some inspiration from the new season of The Dragon Prince this week as well as some quality betaing by @porscheszar and @stormyseawitch, I decided it was time to let it free.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it and I would love to know your thoughts! Where do you see the story going now that we're very near the end.


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